Don’t Ask A Writer What He’s Working

Without Poetry The Soul And Heart Of Man Starves And Dies.

When Trying To Explain Anything, I Usually Find That The Bible, That Great Collection Of Magnificent And Varied Poetry, Has Said It Before In The Best Possible Way.

Everything Mortal Has Moments Immortal

Oh! To Be A Butterfly Still, Upon A Flower, Winking With Its Painted Wings, Happy In The Hour.

Lilacs, False Blue, White, Purple, Colour Of Lilac, Your Great Puffs Of Flowers Are Everywhere In This My New England ... Lilacs In Dooryards Holding Quiet Conversation With An Early Moon; Lilacs Watching A Deserted House; ... Lilacs, Wind-beaten, Staggering Under A Lopsided Shock Of Bloom, You Are Everywhere.