I Have Been Cut In Two.

God Is Only Mocked By Believers.

The Tongue, The Chinese Say, Is Like A Sharp Knife: It Kills Without Drawing Blood.

I Will Be Steel! I Will Build A Steel Bridge Over My Need! I Will Build A Bomb Shelter Over My Heart! But My Future Is A Secret. It Is As Shy As A Mole.

This Is What Poems Are: With Mercy For The Greedy, They Are The Tongue's Wrangle, The World's Pottage, The Rat's Star.

There Is Joy In All: In The Hair I Brush Each Morning, In The Cannon Towel, Newly Washed, That I Rub My Body With Each Morning.