What power had I before I learned to yield? Shatter me Great Wind! I shall possess the field! Richard Wilbur a stanza from his poem To A Milkweed.

That's what (Hill) died for, the right for people to protest. But I don't think a funeral is the right place or context in the way they are protesting. It's not something the family needs to hear, that we're glad your son's dead and that your minister is a whore.

What you hope for is that at some point of the pointless journey, indoors or out, and when you least expect it, right in the middle of your stride, like that, so neatly that you never feel a thing, the kind assassin Sleep will draw a bead and blow yo

What is the opposite of two? A lonely me, a lonely you.

what power had I before I learned to yield? Shatter me Great Wind! I shall possess the field! from the poem To A Milkweed.

The little dog lay curled and did not rise But slept the deeper as the ashes rose, And found the people incomplete