Hey, Mister Tambourine Man, play a song for me.
I'm not sleepy and there ain't no place I'm goin' to.
The poetry of hemlocks is deep and green,
Secret as hiding places seldom seen.
The music of hemlocks, like sound of the thrush,
Is sudden and cool in the evening hush.
Cathedrals of hemlocks invite the weary;
the quiet aisles are sanctuary.
Our bodies are worthy of white silk, dark chocolate, worthy of belly laughs, worthy of the long slow dance.
I decided to start anew... to accept as true my own thinking. This was one of the best times of my life.
The summer looks out from her brazen tower
Through the flashing bars of July.
Ninety-eight percent of the adults in this country are decent, hard-working, honest Americans. It's the other lousy two percent that get all the publicity. But then—we elected them.
For real company and friendship, there is nothing outside of the animal kingdom that is comparable to a river.
If all the cars in the United States were placed end to end, it would probably be Labor Day weekend.
Plans to protect air and water, wilderness and wildlife are in fact plans to protect man.
If you are planning for a year, sow rice.
If you are planning for a decade, plant trees.
If you are planning for a lifetime, educate a person.