You may choose your word like a connoisseur, And polish it up with art, But the word that sways, and stirs, and stays, Is the word that comes from the heart. You may work on your word a thousand weeks, But it will not glow like one That all unsought, leaps forth white hot, When the fountains of feeling run.

Each mental wave we send out from the mind, Or base, or kind, Completes its circuit, then with added force Seeks its own source.

Look to the Great Eternal Cause And not to any man, for light. Look in; and learn the wrong, and right, From your own soul's unwritten laws. And when you quest…

Affirm the body, beautiful and whole, The earth-expression of immortal soul. Affirm the mind, the messenger of the hour, To speed between thee and the source o…

Close the door. Write with no one looking over your shoulder. Don't try to figure out what other people want to hear from you; figure out what you have to say.…

Our live experiences, fixed in aphorisms, stiffen into cold epigrams. Our heart's blood, as we write it, turns to mere dull ink.

A work of art consists of two elements,the inner and outer. The inner is the emotion in the soul of the artist...it has the capacity to evoke similar emotions …