The body, what is it, Father, but a sign To love the force that grows us, to give back What in Thy palm is senselessness and mud?

Haul up the flag, you mourners, Not half-mast but all the way; The funeral is done and disbanded; The devil's had the final say.

Poetry is innocent, not wise. It does not learn from experience, because each poetic experience is unique.

But with exquisite breathing you smile, with satisfaction of love, And I touch you again as you tick in the silence and settle in sleep.

To make the child in your own image is a capital crime, for your image is not worth repeating. The child knows this and you know it. Consequently you hate each other.

The proverbist knows nothing of the two sides of a question. He knows only the roundness of answers.

Already old, the question Who shall die? Becomes unspoken Who is innocent?

Poetry is not a way of saying things; it's a way of seeing things.

How something important happens is the business of historians and newspapers, the effect it has is the business of philosophers and writers and especially poets.

Poets of course are even more unpredictable than other writers, overwhelmed as they are by the moment they inhabit and finding it difficult to connect yesterday with tomorrow.

Self-knowledge is a dangerous thing, tending to make man shallow or insane.

A huge part of losing weight is believing you have the power to do it.

California as a nation or part of a larger West Coast nation, should other states join with California, would be a good influence on the rest of the United States.

This whole career has been way more than I ever even imagined or dreamed.

Rebel, renegade, must stay paid.

Baptists don’t spend their time thinking about reality.

The ultimate form of love for God and men is forgiveness.

Feeling free, let us fly, into the boundless, beyond the sky, for we were born to never die.

I searched for God and found only myself. I searched for myself and found only God.

The true Christian is like sandalwood, which imparts its fragrance to the axe which cuts it, without doing any harm in return.

Overall, rocks, wood and water, brooded the spirit of repose, and the silent energy of nature stirred the soul to its innermost depths.