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In A Glass of Cider It seemed I was a mite of sediment That waited for the bottom to ferment So I could catch a bubble in ascent. I rode up on one till the bubble burst, And when that left me to sink back reversed I was no worse off than I was at first. I'd catch another bubble if I waited. The thing was to get now and then elated.
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A diplomat is a man who always remembers a woman's birthday but never remembers her age.
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Being the boss anywhere is lonely. Being a female boss in a world of mostly men is especially so.
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The snake stood up for evil in the Garden.
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Every poem is a momentary stay against the confusion of the world.
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It takes all sorts of in and outdoor schooling To get adapted to my kind of fooling.
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But strictly held by none, is loosely bound By countless silken ties of love and thought To everything on earth the compass round, And only by one's going slightly taut In the capriciousness of summer air Is of the slightest bondage made aware.
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You're searching... For things that don't exist; I mean beginnings. Ends and beginnings - there are no such things. There are only middles.
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The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.
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And were an epitaph to be my story I'd have a short one ready for my own. I would have written of me on my stone: I had a lover's quarrel with the world.
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An idea is a feat of association, and the height of it is a good metaphor.
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It was far in the sameness of the wood; I was running with joy on the Demon's trail, Though I knew what I hunted was no true god.
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Not yesterday I learned to know The love of bare November days Before the coming of the snow....
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I do not see why I should eβer turn back, Or those should not set forth upon my track To overtake me, who should miss me here And long to know if still I held them dear. They would not find me changed from him they knew β Only more sure of all I thought was true.
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And nothing to look backward to with pride, and nothing to look forward to with hope.
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A civilized society is one which tolerates eccentricity to the point of doubtful sanity.
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The tree the tempest with a crash of wood Throws down in front of us is not to bar. Our passage to our journey's end for good, But just to ask us who we think we are....
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For hard it is to keep from being King When it's in you and in the situation.
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A poem begins with a lump in the throat.
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Of course there is matter for remark in poems. Nobody denies that. But it must be solemnly laid on everybody in this world to make his own observations and remarks. That's what we mean by thinking, and that's about all we mean. A teacher says to a pupil "Watch me notice a few things in the next few months: let's see you notice a few things too."
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The Armful For every parcel I stoop down to seize I lose some other off my arms and knees, And the whole pile is slipping, bottles, buns, Extremes too hard to comprehend at. once Yet nothing I should care to leave behind. With all I have to hold with hand and mind And heart, if need be, I will do my best. To keep their building balanced at my breast. I crouch down to prevent them as they fall; Then sit down in the middle of them all. I had to drop the armful in the road And try to stack them in a better load.
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Happiness makes up in height for what it lacks in length.
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A poem may be worked over once it is in being, but may not be worried into being.
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Talking is a hydrant in the yard and writing is a faucet upstairs in the house. Opening the first takes the pressure off the second.