On the mountains of memory by the world's wellsprings, in all man's eyes, where the light of life of him is on all past things, death only dies.

Heart's ease of pansy, pleasure or thought, Which would the picture give us of these? Surely the heart that conceived it sought Heart's ease.

Body and spirit are twins: God only knows which is which.

Today will die tomorrow.

Blossom by blossom the spring begins.

I remember the way we parted, The day and the way we met; You hoped we were both broken-hearted And knew we should both forget.

The tadpole poet will never grow into anything bigger than a frog.

A little soul scarce fledged for earth Takes wing with heaven again for goal, Even while we hailed as fresh from birth A little soul.

When the hounds of Spring are on winter's traces, The mother of months in meadow or plain Fills the shadows and windy places With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain.

Love, as is told by the seers of old, Comes as a butterfly tipped with gold, Flutters and flies in sunlit skies, Weaving round hearts that were one time cold.

His life is a watch or a vision Between a sleep and a sleep.

Love of love written by the broken hearted, love of life written by the dead.

I wondered how that felt, to really like yourself. And I wondered why some people didn't like themselves and others did. Maybe that's just the way it was.

The criminal conduct of Hillary Clinton threatens the foundations of democracy.

to diminish expectation is to increase enjoyment.

Yes, life is a woman!

Live with your century; but do not be its creature.

Apples, grapes... any kind of fruit gives me the energy I need to get through my busy day.

I grew up in a house that was in a constant state of mourning.

He sometimes behaves like water, flowing around the obstacles he encounters.

I think we live in a world where "the normal," is just a cut that each society creates for itself, but leaves out a number of situations, thoughts, and events as part of what we catalog as normal.