Sara Teasdale

"From my spirit's gray defeat, From my pulse's flagging beat, From my hopes that turned to sand Sifting through my close-clenched hand, From my own fault's slavery, If I can sing, I still am free.For with my singing I can make A refuge for my spirit's sake, A house of shining words, to be My fragile immortality."

"I have no riches but my thoughts. Yet these are wealth enough for me."