“Toward dawn we shared with youyour hour of desolation,the huge lingering passionof your unearthly out cry,as you swung your blind headtowards us and laboriously openeda bloodshot, glistening eye,in...”

“What makes the engine go?Desire, desire, desire.”

“I can hardly wait for tomorrow, it means a new life for me each and every day.”

“In my darkest night,when the moon was coveredand I roamed through wreckage,a nimbus-clouded voicedirected me:Live in the layers,not on the litter.Though I lack the artto decipher it,no doubt the ne...”

“Darling, do you rememberthe man you married? Touch me, remind me who I am.”

“...few young poets [are] testing their poems against the ear. They're writing for the page, and the page, let me tell you, is a cold bed.”

“Im not a woman you bring home to Mother, pick out china patterns with, or Mary forefend, breed. Ive seen a chunk of the universe, true, but theres still so much more to see. I doubt Ill ever cure t...”

“My hope, my heaven, my trust must be,My gentle guide, in following thee.”

“Amory took to writing poetry on spring afternoons, in the gardens of the big estates near Princeton, while swans made effective atmosphere in the artificial pools, and slow clouds sailed harmonious...”