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These, in the day when heaven was falling, The hour when earth's foundations fled, Followed their mercenary calling And took their wages and are dead. The British regulars who made the retreat from Mons, beginning August 24, 1914.
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I'd walked too close to heaven and gotten a glimpse. The hell I'd lived before her no longer appealed to me.
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Love taught me to die with dignity that I might come forth anew in splendor. Born once of flesh, then again of fire, I was reborn a third time to the sound of my name humming haikus in heaven’s mouth.
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There are those who say that children make a rich man poor. No, they have it backward. Children make a poor man rich. A rich man can't take his riches to heaven, but I'm taking my children
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I can't really explain what it's like to be in love, but I feel like it's being comfortable. It's almost like having a best friend. It's a beautiful thing.
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Poetry itself is music. I'm just lucky that I can convert it into music.
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I'm not a method actor. I can't even explain so much what I do.
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I don't trust a government I can't shoot back at
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I don't kill myself. I can't live like that.
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I can picture things, like a painter would, though Im not good at painting, either.
