Under My Head Till Morning; But The

To A Young Poet Time Cannot Break The Bird's Wing From The Bird. Bird And Wing Together Go Down, One Feather. No Thing That Ever Flew, Not The Lark, Not You, Can Die As Others Do.

But She Was Not Made For Any Man, And She Will Never Be All Mine.

Life Is A Quest And Love A Quarrel

To Be Grown Up Is To Sit At The Table With People Who Have Died, Who Neither Listen Nor Speak.

Soar, Eat Ether, See What Has Never Been Seen; Depart, Be Lost, But Climb.