September fattens on vines. Roses flake from the wall. The smoke of harmless fires drifts to my eyes. This is plenty. This is more than enough.

Public toilets have a duty to be accessible, poetry does not.

We are difficult. Human beings are difficult. We’re difficult to ourselves, we’re difficult to each other.

Autumn resumes the land, ruffles the woods with smoky wings, entangles them.

Thus I grind to conclusion.

As estimated, you died. Things marched, sufficient, to that end. Just so much Zyklon and leather, patented terror, so many routine cries.

Platonic England, house of solitudes, rests in its laurels and its injured stone

Dig -- the mostly uncouth -- language of grace.

Evil is not good's absence but gravity'severlasting bedrock and its fatal chainsinert, violent, the suffrage of our days.

Who now would thrust enquiry on / Beyond necessity of desire?

It's amazing how willingly one can tell to a new face, and how restrained one may be from telling a familiar one.

Look what I’m dealing with, man, I’m dealing with fools and trolls.

Minds, unlike brains, are not entirely given at birth. Minds are also forms of cultural achievement.

Do not look for evil. Look for the goodness of God all around you. As you look for signs of His Presence, many more opportunities will occur for you to bless people and share God's true nature.

There is a constant ebb and flow in art historical reputations. The reputation of even the greatest figures like Picasso are in flux.

The taking of vows that are not feasible or that are beyond one's capacity would betray thoughtlessness and want of balance.

I didn't like the way the game was being played.

Percy yelled. "What's going- Gah! Shrimpzilla!

Tired of myself longing for what I have not

If you constantly think of illness, you eventually become ill; if you believe yourself to be beautiful, you become so.