I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus
With tigery stripes, and a face on it
Round read more

I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus
With tigery stripes, and a face on it
Round as the moon, to stare up.
I want to be looking at them when they come
Picking among the dumb minerals, the roots.
I see them already-the pale, star-distance faces.
Now they are nothing, they are not even babies.
I imagine them without fathers or mothers, like the first gods.
They will wonder if I was important.

Crying is the only way your eyes speak when your mouth cant explain how things made your heart broken. It's read more

Crying is the only way your eyes speak when your mouth cant explain how things made your heart broken. It's normal!

To banish cares, scare away sorrow and soothe pain is the business of the poet and singer.

To banish cares, scare away sorrow and soothe pain is the business of the poet and singer.

Well, there's no one at all, they do be saying, but is deserving of some punishment from the very minute read more

Well, there's no one at all, they do be saying, but is deserving of some punishment from the very minute of his birth.

In private grief with careless scorn. In public seem to triumph and not to mourn.

In private grief with careless scorn. In public seem to triumph and not to mourn.

You grow up on the day you have your first real laugh at, yourself.

You grow up on the day you have your first real laugh at, yourself.

Nothing ends nicely, that's why it ends.

Nothing ends nicely, that's why it ends.

Happiness is as a butterfly which, when pursued, is always beyond our grasp, but which if you will sit down read more

Happiness is as a butterfly which, when pursued, is always beyond our grasp, but which if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.

Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not read more

Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.