Pard, we will meet again in the Happy Hunting Ground To part no more, Goodbye

Can you let me go to hell the way I want to?

My dearly beloved if I am to die today and never see the sweet face of you I want you to know that I am no great man and am lucky to have such a woman as you.

This circus that's advertised to show and furnish a little amusement for us heathens is owned by a woman, one whose pluck catches my sympathy every time.

We don't find love, love finds us. What you put out into the universe will find its way back to you.

Don't settle your wild, find a man who doesn't want to tame it.

Could crushed spirit be destroyed if it encountered too much spirit?

Schooling gives you knowledge, but education makes you wise.

You have to learn a few things, which you do along the way, but basically, poetry is a matter of the ear. Iambic pentameters or what constitutes a stanza comes naturally - your ears will know.

Hope was a dangerous emotion that more often than not led men into foolishness and peril, made them risk their lives and lose their wives and part with fortunes that they never recovered.

Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.

Often the fear on one evil leads us into a worse.

When I die, it will be a shipwreck, and as when a huge ship sinks, many people all around will be sucked down with it.

Love, it seems to me, is that condition in which one is most contentedly oneself.