“How to be a Poet (to remind myself)Make a place to sit down. Sit down. Be quiet. You must depend upon affection, reading, knowledge, skillmore of each than you haveinspiration work, growing older, ...”

“The soil under the grass is dreaming of a young forest, and under the pavement the soil is dreaming of grass.”

“A tree forms itself in answerto its place and the light.Explain it how you will, the onlything explainable will beyour explanation. Sabbaths 1999 IV”

“Ive come down from the skylike some damned ghost, delayedtoo longTo the abandoned fieldsthe trees returned and grew.They stand and grow. Time comesTo them, time goes, the treesStand; the only place...”

“If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.”

“Youll get over it Its the clichs that cause the trouble. To lose someone you love is to alter your life for ever. You dont get over it because it is the person you loved. The pain stops, there are ...”

“Its the same with people who say, Whatever doesnt kill you makes you stronger. Even people who say this must realize that the exact opposite is true. What doesnt kill you maims you, cripples you, l...”

“But who can remember pain, once its over? All that remains of it is a shadow, not in the mind even, in the flesh. Pain marks you, but too deep to see. Out of sight, out of mind.”

“I know what you are learning to endure. There is nothing to be done. Make sure nothing is wasted. Take notes. Remember it all, every insult, every tear. Tattoo it on the inside of your mind. In lif...”

“My mind, I know, I can prove, hovers on hummingbird wings. It hovers and it churns. And when it's operating at full thrust, the churning does not stop. The machines do not rest, the systems rarely ...”

“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...”