From oriole to crow, note the declineIn music. Crow is realist. But, then, Oriole, also, may be realist.

The exceeding brightness of this early sunMakes me conceive how dark I have become.

After the leaves have fallen, we returnTo a plain sense of things. It is as ifWe had come to an end of the imagination, Inanimate in an inert savoir.

A pear should come to the table popped with juice, Ripened in warmth and served in warmth. On termsLike these, autumn beguiles the fatalist.

We say God and the imagination are one . . .How high that highest candle lights the dark.

Poetry is a finikin thing of airThat lives uncertainly and not for longYet radiantly beyond much lustier blurs.

I'm an outgoing person when it comes to friends, but when it comes to being confident and sexy, the sexy word scares me.

Open the hood of a car and it will tell you something about the people who designed it, is just one of many phrases I’m tortured by.

I haven't done rap... I can't do that too well.

The state has no religion for the simple reason that it has each and everyone.

We are everything and we are nothing. We are a forgotten moment. We don't even exist, which is the freeing part. We just think we do. That's the illusion.

The belief that one's suffering has a greater cosmic purpose, and is thus more exciting and more noble, well, it made a lot of sense to me.

I hate when people are chomping their gum, even though I do it. I hate that.

Learn the lessons of history. Don't let how you feel about your tenure at your organization drive you to make poor investment decisions that could potentially derail a successful retirement.

It is a rare life that remains orderly even in private.

Too many Christians are stuffing themselves with gospel blessings while millions have never had a taste.