Nothing Can Make Injustice Just But Mercy.

He Is All Pine And I Am Apple Orchard. My Apple Trees Will Never Get Across And Eat The Cones Under His Pines, I Tell Him. He Only Says, "good Fences Make Good Neighbors.

The Woods Are Lovely, Dark, And Deep But I Have Promises To Keep...

I Own I Never Really Warmed To The Reformer Or Reformed. And Yet Conversion Has Its Place Not Halfway Down The Scale Of Grace.

You've Often Heard Me Say - Perhaps Too Often - That Poetry Is What Is Lost In Translation. It Is Also What Is Lost In Interpretation. That Little Poem Means Just What It Says And It Says What It Means, Nothing Less But Nothing More.

Unless You Are Educated In Metaphor, You Are Not Safe To Be Let Loose In The World.