Already old, the question Who shall die? Becomes unspoken Who is innocent?

Haul up the flag, you mourners, Not half-mast but all the way; The funeral is done and disbanded; The devil's had the final say.

Poetry is innocent, not wise. It does not learn from experience, because each poetic experience is unique.

But with exquisite breathing you smile, with satisfaction of love, And I touch you again as you tick in the silence and settle in sleep.

To make the child in your own image is a capital crime, for your image is not worth repeating. The child knows this and you know it. Consequently you hate each other.

The proverbist knows nothing of the two sides of a question. He knows only the roundness of answers.

The body, what is it, Father, but a sign To love the force that grows us, to give back What in Thy palm is senselessness and mud?

Poetry is not a way of saying things; it's a way of seeing things.

How something important happens is the business of historians and newspapers, the effect it has is the business of philosophers and writers and especially poets.

Poets of course are even more unpredictable than other writers, overwhelmed as they are by the moment they inhabit and finding it difficult to connect yesterday with tomorrow.

Self-knowledge is a dangerous thing, tending to make man shallow or insane.

... history - the lamp which illumines national character...

From that moment our love became sad, and sadness is a disease which gives the death-blow to affection.

How about a kiss?”“Are you man enough to try?” she asked.

I love cranberry juice, but I'm not a coffee drinker - as a Mormon, I avoid caffeine.

As a seer, I naturally can see the evolutionary potential of a being. But the potential will not necessarily be actualized. A particular being will not necessarily realize their full height.

I do not know where to find in any literature, whether ancient or modern, any adequate account of that Nature with which I am acquainted.

If you see bigotry, oppose it.

Jacian Obregon. It sounds like a melody. Or a tragedy.

Scriptures were written, not to satisfy our curiosity and make us astronomers, but to lead us to God, and make us saints.

Every single astronaut who has come back from space comes back determined to do more to protect it.