“Lessons hide in his wrinkles. Bells ding in the oldness of eyes. Did he by, any chance, tell children that there are such monstrous things as peace and goodwill...a corrupter of youth no doubt...”

“Time cannot children,poets,lovers tell-measure imagine,mystery,a kiss-not though mankind would rather know than feel”

“somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence; in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near”

“supposeLife is an old man carrying flowers on his head.”

“my sweet old etceteraaunt lucy during the recentwar could and whatis more did tell you justwhat everybody was fightingfor,my sisterisabel created hundreds(andhundreds) of socks not tomention shirts fleaproof earwarmersetcetera wristers etcetera, mymother hoped thati would die etceterabravely of course my father usedto become hoarse talking about how it wasa privilege and if only hecould meanwhile myself etcetera lay quietlyin the deep mud etcetera(dreaming,et cetera, ofYour smileeyes knees and of your Etcetera)”

“Who can tell truth from falsehood any more?I say it, and you feel it in your hearts:no man or woman on this big small earth.How should our sages miss the mark of life,and our most skillful players lose the game?your hearts will tell you, as my heart has told me:because all know, and no one understands.”

“i am a little church(no great cathedral)far from the splendor and squalor of hurrying cities--i do not worry if briefer days grow briefest,i am not sorry when sun and rain make aprilmy life is the life of the reaper and the sower;my prayers are prayers of earth's own clumsily striving(finding and losing and laughing and crying)childrenwhose any sadness or joy is my grief or my gladnessaround me surges a miracle of unceasingbirth and glory and death and resurrection:over my sleeping self float flaming symbolsof hope,and i wake to a perfect patience of mountainsi am a little church(far from the franticworld with its rapture and anguish)at peace with nature--i do not worry if longer nights grow longest;i am not sorry when silence becomes singingwinter by spring,i lift my diminutive spire tomerciful Him Whose only now is forever:standing erect in the deathless truth of His presence(welcoming humbly His light and proudly His darkness)”