Deeds Cannot Dream What Dreams Can Do

May My Heart Always Be Open To Little Birds Who Are The Secrets Of Living Whatever They Sing Is Better Than To Know And If Men Should Not Hear Them Men Are Old May My Mind Stroll About Hungry And Fearless And Thirsty And Supple And Even If It's Sunday May I Be Wrong For Whenever Men Are Right They Are Not Young And May Myself Do Nothing Usefully And Love Yourself So More Than Truly There's Never Been Quite Such A Fool Who Could Fail Pulling All The Sky Over Him With One Smile

Hopes Dance Best On Bald Men's Hair

At Least The Pilgrim Fathers Used To Shoot Indians: The Pilgrim Children Merely Punch Time Clocks.

I'm Living So Far Beyond My Income That We May Almost Be Said To Be Living Apart.

It's Spring When The World Is Puddle-wonderful