“Though leaves are many, the root is one; Through all the lying days of my youth I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun Now I may wither into the truth.”

Words are always getting conventionalized to some secondary meaning. It is one of the works of poetry to take the truants in custody and bring them back to their right senses.

Wine enters through the mouth, Love, the eyes. I raise the glass to my mouth, I look at you, I sigh.

But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

There is another world, but it is in this one.

Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World! You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled. Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing.

What can be explained is not poetry.

The winds that awakened the stars Are blowing through my blood.

Think where man’s glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends.

And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.

It seems to me that love, if it is fine, is essentially a discipline.

Love is created and preserved by intellectual analysis, for we love only that which is unique, and it belongs to contemplation, not to action, for we would not change that which we love.

In dreams begins responsibility.

If what I say resonates with you, it’s merely because we’re branches of the same tree.

When two close kindred meet, What better than call a dance?

It seems to me that true love is a discipline.

The tragedy of sexual intercourse is the perpetual virginity of the soul.

A world without a Sabbath would be like a man without a smile, like summer without flowers, and like a homestead without a garden. It is the most joyous day of the week.

My upbringing is why I am the person I am today. I have very wise parents.

There should be three days a week when no one is allowed to say: ‘What’s your sign?’ Violators would have their copies of Kahlil Gibran confiscated.

Today is the first and last day of forever.

We should think about whether canonizations, which are an invention of the Middle Ages, still make sense today.

Interest works night and day in fair weather and in foul. It gnaws at a man’s substance with invisible teeth.

I chose myself today, not over you. I can never do that, and you know that well. I just chose the new me over my past self.

The first hour of the morning is the rudder of the day.