Sing, seraph with the glory! heaven is high. Sing, poet with the sorrow! earth is low. The universe's inward voices cry "Amen" to either song of joy and woe. Sing, seraph, poet! sing on equally!

I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.

Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God: But only he who sees takes off his shoes.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

You're something between a dream and a miracle.

Light tomorrow with today!

You were made perfectly to be loved - and surely I have loved you, in the idea of you, my whole life long.

Silence is the best response to a fool.

I love you for the part of me that you bring out.

Why, what is to live? Not to eat and drink and breathe,—but to feel the life in you down all the fibres of being, passionately and joyfully.

There is no "the secret", you are just too lazy.

Integration arises from intimacy with our emotions and our bodies, as well as with our thoughts.

You see, time is an ocean, not a garden hose. Space is a puff of smoke, a wisp of cloud.

What makes my approach special is that I do different things. I do jazz, blues, country music and so forth. I do them all, like a good utility man.

It’s a waste of time to be bummed on something, considering the amount of time that we have in this world.

When I shall again write to you, or where I shall be tomorrow, I cannot tell.

The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you.

No one knows what women want!