We, unaccustomed to courage exiles from delight live coiled in shells of loneliness until love leaves its high holy temple and comes...

'Before you know what kindness really is you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment like salt in a weakened broth...'

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both, And be one traveler, long I stood...

We can make our minds so like still water That beings gather about us...

The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door...

Poetry is divisive. It provokes love in some, and loathing in others. However, Poetry is all around us.