Occupation: Writer Birth: January 6, 1878 Death: July 22, 1967
And those who say, "I'll try anything once," often try nothing twice, three times, arriving late at the gate of dreams worth dying for..
Such a Big miracle in such a tiny baby. Big things often have small beginnings A baby is God's opinion that life should go on..
Time is a sandpile we run our fingers in..
The drum in a dream pounds loud to the dreamer..
I'm an idealist. I don't know where I'm going, but I'm on my way..
Anger is the most impotent of passions. It effects nothing it goes about, and hurts the one who is possessed by it more than the one against whom it ….
Poetry is a sky dark with a wild-duck migration..
Poetry is a section of river-fog and moving boat-lights, delivered between bridges and whistles, so one says, 'Oh!' and another, 'How?'.
Who else speaks for the Family of Man? They are in tune and step with constellations of universal law..
I fell in love, not deep, but I fell several times and then fell out..
Poetry is a dance music measuring buck-and-wing follies along with the gravest and stateliest dead-marches..
For we know when a nation goes down and never comes back, when a society or a civilization perishes, one condition may always be found. They forgot w….
Yesterday and tomorrow cross and mix on the skyline. The two are lost in a purple haze. One forgets, one waits..
Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands and goes to work..
The wind bit hard at Valley Forge one Christmas. Soldiers tied rags on their feet. Red footprints wrote on the snow....
The impact of television on our culture is just indescribable..
Time is a great teacher, Who can live without hope?.
A liar goes in fine clothes, a liar goes in rags, a liar is a liar, clothes or no clothes..
I am the people the mob the crowd the mass. Do you know that all the great work of the world is done through me?.
Poetry is a series of explanations of life, fading off into horizons too swift for explanations..
Poetry is a tracing of the trajectories of a finite sound to the infinite points of its echoes..