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And every one of them words rang true and glowed like burnin' coal. Pourin' off of every page, like it was written in my soul from me to you.

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Poetry and lyrics are very similar. Making words bounce off a page.


They would not find me changed from him they knew - only more sure of all I thought was true.


Poetry is the renewal of words, setting them free, and that's what a poet is doing: loosening the words.


My soul is an entangled knot, upon a liquid vortex wrought by Intellect in the Unseen residing, and thine doth like a convict sit, with marline-spike untwisting it, only to find its knottiness abiding.


When your heart turns cold, it causes your soul to freeze.


I am restless. I am athirst for faraway things. My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance. O Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute! I forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am bound in this spot evermore.