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  The Song of Wandering Aengus   I went out to the hazel wood, Because a fire was in my head, And cut and peeled a hazel wand, And hooked a berry to a thread; And when white moths were...

"Until we are all free, we are none of us free." - Emma Lazarus Best known for her poem The New Colossus, which is inscribed on the Statue of Liberty, Emma Lazarus was an American poet, human rights pioneer and advocate for...

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately." - Henry David Thoreau From his beloved book, Walden—a record of his communion with nature, confrontation with the "essential facts of life," and quest for enlightenment. Thoreau exalted nature and eschewed formal...

"The sea is big and old." - Ernest Hemingway Too simple for your taste? Perhaps he should have gone with "the sea is boundless and ancient," or "the expansive sea churns eternally." Hemingway would just as soon tuck a daisy behind the...

"I hate the office; it cuts in on my social life." - Dorothy Parker From one of her Hate Song poems, first published in Vanity Fair in 1919. Armed with her sharp, scathing wit, Dorothy Parker wrote incisive critiques of American...

"Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose." - Gertrude Stein   From her poem, Sacred Emily.  The rose, rich with meaning and cultural weight, has become somewhat of a polarizing object. One either looks forward to receiving a dozen...

"The way to right wrongs is to turn the light of truth upon them." - Ida B. Wells Trailblazing journalist Ida B. Wells knew what she stood for and unwaveringly stood for it: Truth. Despite the impediments as both a former...

"We wanderers, ever seeking the lonelier way" - Khalil Gibran From his bestselling masterpiece, The Prophet. The most well known of Gibran's works, The Prophet explores the wisdom at the intersection of his various spiritual influences. Not only did this line resonate with us,...

Whose woods these are I think I know.  His house is in the village though;     He will not see me stopping here    To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer    To stop without...

yours is the music for no instrumentyours the preposterous colour unbeheld —mine the unbought contemptuous intent till this our flesh merely shall be excelled by speaking flower                       (if I have made songs it does not greatly matter to the sun,...

WEEK ONE | MARCEL PROUST “Who cannot recall, as I can, the reading they did in the holidays, which one would conceal successively in all those hours of the day peaceful and inviolable enough to be able to afford it...