Love Has Earth To Which She Clings.

You've Often Heard Me Say - Perhaps Too Often - That Poetry Is What Is Lost In Translation. It Is Also What Is Lost In Interpretation. That Little Poem Means Just What It Says And It Says What It Means, Nothing Less But Nothing More.

We Can Make A Little Order Where We Are, And Then The Big Sweep Of History On Which We Can Have No Effect Doesn't Overwhelm Us. We Do It With Colors, With A Garden, With The Furnishings Of A Room, Or With Sounds And Words. We Make A Little Form, And We Gain Composure.

Memento Mori And Obey The Lord. Art And Religion Love The Somber Chord.

You Have Freedom When You're Easy In Your Harness.

Before I Built A Wall I'd Ask To Know What I Was Walling In Or Walling Out.