From purest wells of English undefiled None deeper drank than he, the New World's Child, Who in the language of their farm field spoke The wit and wisdom of New England folk.

For all sad words of tongue and pen, The saddest are these, 'It might have been'.

A little smile, a word of cheer, A bit of love from someone near, A little gift from one held dear, Best wishes for the coming year. These make a merry christmas!

Through this broad street, restless ever, ebbs and flows a human tide, wave on wave a living river; wealth and fashion side by side; Toiler, idler, slave and master, in the same quick current glide.

Swan flocks of lilies shoreward lying, In sweetness, not in music, dying.

Along the river's summer walk, The withered tufts of asters nod; And trembles on its arid stalk the hoar plum of the golden-rod.

Alas for him who never sees The stars shine through his cypress-trees Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, Nor looks to see the breaking day Across the mournful marbles play!

All the windows of my heart I open to the day.

Behind the cloud the starlight lurks, Through showers the sunbeams fall; For God, who loveth all his works, Has left his Hope with all.

If thou of fortune be bereft, and in thy store there be but left two loaves, sell one, and with the dole, buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.

Green calm below, blue quietness above.

I don't trust anybody who isn't a little bit neurotic

even in death, his last breath was poetryexisting in the wind and on the breeze of"it used to be likes" forever remembering, yet never relivinghis lifewill never be what it used to be like.

I don't want to have to save your life, ' Chord says softly. 'Not when you can do it.

Vision creates faith and faith creates willpower.

The condition of the United States in the post-postmodern, or post-post-irony period. It's what the country will become when there is nothing left but mediated images of its substance.

Other vices make their own way; this makes way for all vices. He that is a drunkard is qualified for all vice.

Our world, like a charnel-house, is strewn with the detritus of dead epochs.

If you cant be brave then be determined. And you will end up in the same place.

If you're going to read minds, start with a simple one.

Do not write me studied letters but ramble as you please.