We faintly hear, we dimly see, In differing phrase we pray; But dim or clear, we own in Him The life, the truth, the way.

For all sad words of tongue and pen, The saddest are these, 'It might have been'.

A little smile, a word of cheer, A bit of love from someone near, A little gift from one held dear, Best wishes for the coming year. These make a merry christmas!

Through this broad street, restless ever, ebbs and flows a human tide, wave on wave a living river; wealth and fashion side by side; Toiler, idler, slave and master, in the same quick current glide.

Swan flocks of lilies shoreward lying, In sweetness, not in music, dying.

Along the river's summer walk, The withered tufts of asters nod; And trembles on its arid stalk the hoar plum of the golden-rod.

Alas for him who never sees The stars shine through his cypress-trees Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, Nor looks to see the breaking day Across the mournful marbles play!

All the windows of my heart I open to the day.

Behind the cloud the starlight lurks, Through showers the sunbeams fall; For God, who loveth all his works, Has left his Hope with all.

If thou of fortune be bereft, and in thy store there be but left two loaves, sell one, and with the dole, buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.

Green calm below, blue quietness above.

The great gift of human beings is that we have the power of empathy, we can all sense a mysterious connection to each other.

Ghosts have a way of misleading you

When you're in love, the whole world is Jewish.

I felt rich when I was 20 years old and my wife was paying my bills. Just being in a band, I've always felt blessed.

Money is only a byproduct of being engaged in a worthy cause.

Growing old is not a thing to watch. It cannot be forgiven in others. Alone, it can be borne. Even indulged.

Whenever it gets too dark, think of the good things you have, the good times you've had. It will help. I promise.

During one of my early seminars, there were a bunch of seminar junkies there.

I find that in a novel I can get more of life, perhaps not such intense life, but certainly more of life than in poetry.

The word-coining genius, as if thought plunged into a sea of words and came up dripping.