Verse is not written, it is bled; Out of the poet's abstract head. Words drip the poem on the page; Out of his grief, delight and rage.
I can still remember the feel in my hand of that most wonderful American coin ever minted, a nickel with a buffalo on one side and the head of an Ind… - Paul Engle
I can still remember the feel in my hand of that most wonderful American coin ever minted, a nickel with a buffalo on one side and the head of an Ind…
- Paul Engle
A barn with cattle and horses is the place to begin Christmas; after all, that's where the original event happened, and that same smell was the first… - Paul Engle
A barn with cattle and horses is the place to begin Christmas; after all, that's where the original event happened, and that same smell was the first…
Other families bought automobiles; we had a horse-headed hitching post in front of our house and drove horses. - Paul Engle
Other families bought automobiles; we had a horse-headed hitching post in front of our house and drove horses.
Without vision you don't see, and without practicality the bills don't get paid. - Paul Engle
Without vision you don't see, and without practicality the bills don't get paid.
The corncob was the central object of my life. My father was a horse handler, first trotting and pacing horses, then coach horses, then work horses, … - Paul Engle
The corncob was the central object of my life. My father was a horse handler, first trotting and pacing horses, then coach horses, then work horses, …
Writing is rewriting what you have rewritten. - Paul Engle
Writing is rewriting what you have rewritten.
I knew about holiness, never having missed a Sunday-school class since I started at four years. But if Jews were also religious, how could our neighb… - Paul Engle
I knew about holiness, never having missed a Sunday-school class since I started at four years. But if Jews were also religious, how could our neighb…
The sharpest memory of our old-fashioned Christmas eve is my mother's hand making sure I was settled in bed. - Paul Engle
The sharpest memory of our old-fashioned Christmas eve is my mother's hand making sure I was settled in bed.
You come to know the aches and vanities and tastes and intrigues of an entire neighborhood at a drug store. - Paul Engle
You come to know the aches and vanities and tastes and intrigues of an entire neighborhood at a drug store.
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