History must not be written with bias, and both sides must be given, even if there is only one side.

Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows.

Too many people in the modern world view poetry as a luxury, not a necessity like petrol. But to me it's the oil of life.

It's strange that those we miss the most Are those we take for granted.

Now if the harvest is over, And the world cold, Give me the bonus of laughter, As I lose hold.

People's backyards are much more interesting than their front gardens, and houses that back on to railways are public benefactors.

I ought to warn you that my verse is of no interest to people who can think.

And I think it was the outline of that church tower at Belaugh against the sky which gave me a passion for churches so that every church I've past since I've wanted to stop and look in.

And now, dear Lord, I cannot wait Because I have a luncheon date.

Topography is one of my chief themes in my poetry, about the country, the suburbs and the seaside. Then there comes love... and increasingly; the fear of death.

Hymns are the poetry of the people.

Art becomes an honest expression once done for oneself. Failure of that results to empty and transparent art.

The one who asks questions does not lose his way.

I have been a systems engineer, systems administrator, a senior adviser for the Central Intelligence Agency, a solutions consultant and a telecommunications information systems officer.

It has been a wonderful five years. I'm excited about the many projects we're working on as we move into year six, and I want to thank everyone for tuning in. We couldn't do it without you!

Words are but empty thanks.

The gate of heaven is very low; only the humble can enter it.

Let us...once and forever put an end to that lie which says that Calvinism and an interest in evangelism are not comparable.

Engraving then, is, in brief terms, the Art of Scratch.

As Logan walked towards her, he smiled as if reading her mind and opened his arms.

The land is all too shallow It is painted on the sky And trembles like the wind-shook rain When the Raven King passed by