My Life Had Stood - A Loaded

There's A Certain Slant Of Light, Winter Afternoons— That Oppresses, Like The Heft Of Cathedral Tunes— Heavenly Hurt, It Gives Us— We Can Find No Scar, But Internal Difference, Where The Meanings, Are.... When It Comes, The Landscape Listens— Shadows—hold Their Breath— When It Goes, 'tis Like The Distance On The Look Of Death.

The Pedigree Of Honey Does Not Concern The Bee; A Clover, Any Time, To Him Is Aristocracy.

You Can Stay Young As Long As You Learn.

This Is My Letter To The World That Never Wrote To Me

It Is Better To Be The Hammer Than The Anvil.