Poem in other words may or may not result from inspiration but must (in reader and author alike) produce it--

There is only one heart in my body, have mercy on me.

The long silences need to be loved, perhaps more than the words which arrive to describe them in time.

I believe one day the distance between myself and God will / disappear.

literature will lose, sunlight will win, don't worry.

The humiliation I go through/when I think of my past/can only be described as grace./We are created by being destroyed.

We are created by being destroyed.

And the night smells like snow. Walking home for a moment you almost believe you could start again. And an intense love rushes to your heart, and hope. It’s unendurable, unendurable.

This is no occupation for an adult who can look other adults in the eye, carry his own weight, and count himself one of them.

Should each individual snowflake be held accountable for the avalanche?

Its hard for me to grasp that I might somehow be my fathers equal in any way.

Whatever the cost of our libraries, the price is cheap compared to that of an ignorant nation.

I did the best I could, and in some arenas, my best was not good enough. I've made some bad choices.

God exists since mathematics is consistent, and the Devil exists since we cannot prove it.

I like smart, funny, self-deprecating men.

My mom, if you asked her if she was interested in whether or not people gambled, would say no.

Terrible is the temptation to be good.

Too many theorists have a tendency to ignore facts that contradict their convictions.

Each religious sect has its own physiognomy. The Methodists have acquired a face; the Quakers, a face; the nuns, a face. An Englishman will pick out a dissenter by his manners.

Politics is for people who have a passion for changing life but lack a passion for living it.

Cowardice asks: Is it safe? Expediency asks: Is it politic? But Conscience asks: Is it right?