“The only reason a road is good as every wanderer knowsIs just because of the homes, the homes, the homes to which one goes”

“I think that I shall never seeA poem lovely as a tree.A tree whose hungry mouth is pressedAgainst the earth's sweet flowing breast;A tree that looks at God all dayAnd lifts her leafy arms to pray;A tree that may in summer wearA nest of robins in her hair;Upon whose bosom snow has lain;Who intimately lives with rain.Poems are made by fools like me,But only God can make a tree.”

“I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. ”

“The fairy poet takes a sheetOf moonbeam, silver white;His ink is dew from daisies sweet,His pen a point of light.”

“What is home without Plumtree's Potted Meat? Incomplete.”

“I think it's a little presumptuous on his part to think that I would want to talk to him anyway. I mean, sure, I went home with him, probably slept with him, ate breakfast with him, and wore his clothes to work the next day. None of this I see as necessarily flirtatious on my part.”

“More than anything I wish he were here with me. "A relationship is an accumulation of shared history," he'd said to me once. And here I was making history without him. It's lonely. And I can't wait to go home. Parts of me are showing through my Aqua, and I'm having a hard time keeping them separate.”