Dry leaves upon the wall, Which flap like rustling wings and seek escape, A single frosted cluster on the grape Still hangs--and that is all.

Slow buds the pink dawn like a rose From out night's gray and cloudy sheath; Softly and still it grows and grows, Petal by petal, leaf by leaf.

Spring's last-born darling, clear-eyed, sweet, Pauses a moment, with white twinkling feet, And golden locks in breezy play, Half teasing and half tender, to repeat Her song of May.

Earth's saddest day and gladdest day were just three days apart!

As we meet and touch, each day, The many travelers on our way, Let every such brief contact be A glorious, helpful minister.

Men die but sorrow never dies.

Every day is a fresh beginning; Listen my soul, to the glad refrain, And in spite of old sorrow… and possible pain, Take heart with the day and begin again.

Now the last red ray is gone; Now the twilight shadows hie.

In the deep shadow of the porch A slender bind-weed springs, And climbs, like airy acrobat, The trellises, and swings And dances in the golden sun In fairy loops and rings.

Every tear is answered by a blossom, Every sigh with songs and laughter blent, April-blooms upon the breezes toss them. April knows her own, and is content.

We ring the bells and we raise the strain We hang up garlands everywhere And bid the tapers twinkle fair, And feast and frolic - and then we go Back to the same old lives again.

She's the sort of woman who lives for others - you can tell the others by their hunted expression.

The material's out there, a calm lake waiting for us to dive in.

To spur a willing horse.

I don't know if it sounds arrogant or whatever, but I'm just trying to get better numbers than last year.

Little Tamar, forget the long ago. We are here and we are now, and that is all. We are making a new start.

I'm not afraid to speak out, and say things that I want to do, or do the things that I want to do, so um, I think in the end, being natural, and being, being actually genuine is what wins.

I don't have a lot of friends; most of the friends I have, I've had since high school.

Telling Phil Hellmuth a bad beat story, is like telling Joan Rivers a Botox Story

Mind conjures miracles out of time.

The goal of fasting is inner unity.