I Turned To Speak To God About

One Of The Lies Would Make It Out That Nothing Ever Presents Itself Before Us Twice. Where Would We Be At Last If That Were So? Our Very Life Depends On Everything's Recurring Till We Answer From Within.

I Have Wished A Bird Would Fly Away, And Not Sing By My House All Day; Have Clapped My Hands At Him From The Door When It Seemed As If I Could Bear No More. The Fault Must Partly Have Been In Me. The Bird Was Not To Blame For His Key. And Of Course There Must Be Something Wrong In Wanting To Silence Any Song.

Life Is Tons Of Discipline. Your First Discipline Is Your Vocabulary; Then Your Grammar And Your Punctuation Then, In Your Exuberance And Bounding Energy You Say You're Going To Add To That. Then You Add Rhyme And Meter. And Your Delight Is In That Power.

What An Exciting Age It Is We Live In With All This Talk About The Hope Of Youth And Nothing Made Of Youth.

There Are Three Things, After All, That A Poem Must Reach: The Eye, The Ear, And What We May Call The Heart Or The Mind. It Is The Most Important Of All To Reach The Heart Of The Reader.