Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?

The air was fragrant with a thousand trodden aromatic herbs, with fields of lavender, and with the brightest roses blushing in tufts all over the meadows.

Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.

The moon is at her full, and riding high, Floods the calm fields with light. The airs that hover in the summer sky Are all asleep to-night.

It is said to be the manner of hypochondriacs to change often their physician.

Hark to that shrill, sudden shout, The cry of an applauding multitude, Swayed by some loud-voiced orator who wields The living mass as if he were its soul!

These struggling tides of life that seem In wayward, aimless course to tend, Are eddies of the mighty stream That rolls to its appointed end.

But 'neath yon crimson tree Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame, Nor mark, within its roseate canopy, Her blush of maiden shame.

Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile.

There is a day of sunny rest For every dark and troubled night; And grief may hide an evening guest, But joy shall come with early light.

The groves were God's first temples.

How could we change the way we think? Through renewed knowledge.

Hope is the light, which shows the way of life.

I'm not panicking, and I'm not scared, I've been through the Gulf War, the Asia crisis, and the Russian crisis.

The poets' scrolls will outlive the monuments of stone. Genius survives all else is claimed by death.

I like down-to-earth people.

The only one that cares about my tax returns are the reporters, OK? They're the only who ask.

When I start to write something, I suppose I want it to change me, to make me into something not myself.

To reign by opinion, begin by trampling it under your feet.

A miracle that can never be: your face, your hands, pledged to me.

Your home is your giant-size privilege, your towering priority.