Pansies in soft April rains Fill their stalks with honeyed sap Drawn from Earth's prolific lap.

And far and wide, in a scarlet tide, The poppy's bonfire spread.

I love thee, I love but thee, With a love that shall not die.

From the desert I come to thee, On a stallion shod with fire; And the winds are left behind In the speed of my desire.

But who will watch my lilies, When their blossoms open white? By day the sun shall be sentry, And the moon and the stars by night!

By wisdom wealth is won; but riches purchased wisdom yet for none.

With rushing winds and gloomy skies The dark and stubborn Winter dies: Far-off, unseen, Spring faintly cries, Bidding her earliest child arise; March!

The hollows are heavy and dank With the steam of the Goldenrods.

The knowledge of my sin Is half-repentance.

The loving are the daring.

Death is not rare, alas! nor burials few, And soon the grassy coverlet of God Spreads equal green above their ashes pale.

Don’t be too rigid, always be ready and eager to make new discoveries

Bad business should be done without guilt if it is a source of income.

To be ignorant of the lives of the most celebrated men of antiquity is to continue in a state of childhood all our days.

You can hear a hundred nice words about yourself, and you'll only remember the one bad one.

There was an old brochure for the American Academy of Dramatic Arts with a quote from Robert Redford or someone, that said, "You're only as good as you dare to be bad."

The Clan Mothers ran everything and had the last word. I think that's the answer.

Romanticism is beauty without bounds-the beautiful infinite.

It is the fault of our rhetoric that we cannot strongly state one fact without seeming to belie some other.

Criticism comes to those who stand out.

God chooses community sometimes to bear an unfair burden to force us to rise to the next level of consciousness and understanding.