That which is possible is inevitable.

Poets are damned but they are not blind, they see with the eyes of angels.

I pick the hair from her eyes and watch her misery with compassion.

Remorse is a virtue in that it is a stirrer up of the emotions but it is a folly to accept it is a criticism of conduct.

Afraid lest he be caught up in a net of words, tripped up, bewildered and so defeated-thrown aside-a man hesitates to write down his innermost convictions.

The beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

My first poem was a bolt from the blue … it broke a spell of disillusion and suicidal despondence. ... it filled me with soul satisfying joy.