A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.
Truth is established by reason and scripture, not by force.
Nature is painting for us, day after day, pictures of infinite beauty if only we have the eyes to see them.
If you cry because the sun has gone out of your life,
I am not a vegetarian because I love animals; I am a vegetarian because I hate plants.
No feeling is final.
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.
Truth is established by reason and scripture, not by force.
Nature is painting for us, day after day, pictures of infinite beauty if only we have the eyes to see them.
If you cry because the sun has gone out of your life,
I am not a vegetarian because I love animals; I am a vegetarian because I hate plants.
No feeling is final.