The Poetry Is Myself.

To Be In Love Is To Touch Things With A Lighter Hand. In Yourself You Stretch, You Are Well.

As You Get Older, You Find That Often The Wheat, Disentangling Itself From The Chaff, Comes Out To Meet You.

She Was Learning To Love Moments. To Love Moments For Themselves.

Goodness Begins Simply With The Fact Of Life Itself.

The Forties And Fifties Were Years Of High Poet-incense; The Language-flowers Were Thickly Sweet. Those Flowers Whined And Begged White Folks To Pick Them, To Find Them Lovable. Then The '60s: Independent Fire!