“Walter Pater said that all the arts aspire to the condition of music, but Ive always felt that music aspires to the condition of words.”

“The first year was like icing. Then the cake started to show through ”

“I'm heading for a clean-named placelike Wisconsin, and mad as a jack-o'-lantern, will get therewithout help and nosy proclivities.”

“Its a bit mad. Too bad, I mean, that getting to know each just for a fleeting second Must be replaced by unperfect knowledge of the featureless wholeLike some pocket history of the world, so genera...”

“Things can harden meaningfully in the moment of indecision”

“How many people came and stayed a certain time,Uttered light or dark speech that became part of youLike light behind windblown fog and sandFiltered and influenced by it, until no partRemains that i...”

“I always thought I wasn't afraid to die. No... no one is afraid of death itself. Your pain and suffering is over in an instant. What really makes me suffer... Is seeing you crying over me... From t...”

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“Jason had joked that dust bunnies under the bed were pets he didnt mind keeping: they never whined for food and didnt require a litter box. They also didn't wake you up at night by barking at passi...”

“Hello, Professor McGonagall, said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.What what are you doing? said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferrets progress through the ai...”

“You know," Gabriel said, "there was a time I thought we could be friends, Will.""There was a time I thought I was a ferret," Will said, "but that turned out to be the opium haze. Did you know it ha...”

“Hello, Professor McGonagall,” said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.“What — what are you doing?” said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret’s progress through t...”

“Oh, Death was never enemy of ours!We laughed at him, we leagued with him, old chum.No soldier's paid to kick against His powers.We laughed, knowing that better men would come,And greater wars: whe...”

“I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.”

“It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road.”