A poem begins with a lump in the throat, a home-sickness or a love-sickness. It is a reaching-out toward expression; an effort to find fulfillment. A complete poem is one where the emotion has found its thought and the thought has found the words.

Each of us should take personal responsibility for our diet, and our children's diet, and the government's role should be to make certain it provides the best information possible to help people stay healthy.

Jim Talent

We cease loving ourselves if no one loves us.

Germaine De Stael

Sometimes the hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which to burn

Bertrand Russell

Arrogance, pedantry, and dogmatism... the occupational diseases of those who spend their lives directing the intellects of the young.

Henry S. Canby

There is no one subsists by himself alone.

Owen Felltham

In the cold change which time hath wrought on love(The snowy winter of his summer prime),Should a chance sigh or sudden tear-drop moveThy heart to memory of the olden time;Turn not to gaze on me with pitying eyes,Nor mock me with a withered hope renewed;But from the bower we both have loved, ariseAnd leave me to my barren solitude!What boots it that a momentary flameShoots from the ashes of a dying fire?We gaze upon the hearth from whence it came,And know the exhausted embers must expire:Therefore no pity, or my heart will break;Be cold, be careless--for thy past love's sake!

Caroline Norton, The Cold Change

Poets treat their experiences shamelessly; they exploit them

Friedrich Nietzsche

What is the meaning of human life, or of organic life altogether To answer this question at all implies a religion. Is there any sense then, you ask, in putting it I answer, the man who regards his own life and that of his fellow creatures as meaningless is not merely unfortunate but almost disqualified for life.

Albert Einstein

Bowed by the weight of centuries he leansUpon his hoe and gazes on the ground,The emptiness of ages in his face,And on his back the burden of the world.Who made him dead to rapture and despair,A thing that grieves not and that never hopes,Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw?Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow?Whose breath blew out the light within this brain?

Edwin Markham, The Man with the

Listen, gods die when they are forgotten. People too. But the land's still here. The good places, and the bad. The land isn't going anywhere. And neither am I.

Neil Gaiman

I find it incredibly romantic that people should fight for a cause they believe in and be prepared to die for it.

James D'arcy

In Cosmic Ordering, we put our trust

Stephen Richards