We made love outdoors—without a roof, I like most, without stove, my favorite place, assuming the weather be fair and balmy, and the earth beneath be clean. Our souls intertwined and dripping with dew, and our love for each other was seen. Our love for the world was new.
Civilization is the lamb's skin in which barbarism masquerades.
The wolf always charges the lamb with muddying the stream.
Lefty Grove could throw a lamb chop past a wolf.
Jeremy Lamb is a great dancer.
Shallows where a lamb could wade and depths where an elephant would drown.
We rise with the lark and go to bed with the lamb.