“Poetry is about the grief. Politics is about the grievance.”

No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise in the writer, no surprise in the reader.

A mother takes twenty years to make a man of her boy, and another woman makes a fool of him in twenty minutes.

Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life; define yourself.

We dance around in a ring and suppose, but the secret sits in the middle and knows.

Poets are like baseball pitchers. Both have their moments. The intervals are the tough things.

If you’re looking for something to be brave about, consider fine arts.

A diplomat is a man who always remembers a woman’s birthday but never remembers her age.

There are tones of voices that mean more than words.

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

There are tones of voices that mean more than words.

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

The beauty of enmity is insecurity; the beauty of friendship is in security.

Education doesn’t change life much. It just lifts trouble to a higher plane of regard.

What is done is done for the love of it – or not really done at all.

Come grow old with me, for the best is yet to come!

You don’t have to deserve your mother’s love. You have to deserve your father s. He’s more particular. The father is always a Republican towards his son, and his mother’s always a Democrat.

I have a heart of glass, When I break I don’t fall apart, I shatter.

This year, I will let grief walk by my side, but I will lead the way.

I became fluent in all their leaving i became in all the grieving.

This pandemic has felt like a constant battle between grief and gratitude.

They expect me to feel like spring but my heart is full of April showers.

Grief sits uncomfortably until it seeps under your skin, so you no longer feel weighed down by it but still feel its subtle presence.

I thought the answer was to bury the pain deep within, but nothing grows from grief.

Grief changes shape, but it never ends.