The Subtlest Beauties In Our Life Are

The Philosopher's Soul Dwells In His Head, The Poet's Soul Is In His Heart; The Singer's Soul Lingers About His Throat, But The Soul Of The Dancer Abides In All Her Body.

Men Would Bless You Or Curse You; The Curse, A Protest Against Failure, The Blessing, A Hymn Of The Hunter Who Comes Back From The Hills With Provision For His Mate.

Poetry Is Not The Opinion Stated. It Is A Song That Appears Instead Of A Bloody Wound Or A Smiling Mouth.

Inspiration Will Always Sing; Inspiration Will Never Explain.

If The Other Person Injures You, You May Forget The Injury; But If You Injure Him You Will Always Remember.