Coming down life's highwayAt ninety mile an hour I want to slideWith bad brakes and bald tiresInto my final parking space

As I think therefore I amAm I more if I think more?

Do your thoughts continue and repeat a cycle Seed, growth, bloom, and seed again

Life doesn't revolve around youIt revolves around those you love

Thankful another tomorrow greetsAs I drink from cup of time And prepare to lock the door behind meand leave it to others

When you build a house You nail down memories Paint and stain the fabric of time

There is nothing to fearFrom your reflection

Life is the night skyAll the dots of stars are happiness

Each day is always breaking out anew Aspirations swirling round what you do

We learn and grow Always building on what we know

subway stations...passengers who token through life

The strong man is not one who is good at wrestling, but the strong man is one who controls himself in a fit of rage.

To improve is to change, so to be perfect is to have changed often.

If we be empty and poor it is not because God's hand is straitened but ours is not opened.

For playing a man to a square to which it cannot be legally moved, the adversary, at his option, may require him to move the man legally, or to move the King.

I accredit animals for keeping me going when times were bad.

No ear can hear nor tongue can tell the tortures of the inward hell!

My daughter is a preschooler but I have only known her for a while. She is adopted.

When Emily Dickinson writes, “Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul,” she reminds us, as the birds do, of the liberation and pragmatism of belief.

My life all-around is really different than a lot of other poets. Not poets that are parents, too, but just that I can hardly find anyone who works in the industries that I've worked in.

Come near, that no more blinded by man's fate, I find under the boughs of love and hate, In all poor foolish things that live a day, Eternal beauty wandering on her way.