How much hope, expectation, and sheer hard work goes into the smallest success! There is no being sure of anything except that whatever has been created will change in time.

For me a true poem is on the way when I begin to be haunted, when it seems as if I were being asked an inescapable question by an angel with whom I must wrestle to get at the answer.

I love giving flowers. It is so deliciously unlasting and romantic.

For poetry is, I believe, always an act of the spirit. The poem teaches us something while we make it. The poem makes you as you make the poem, and your making of the poem requires all your capacities of thought, feeling, analysis, and synthesis.

Poems like to have a destination for their flight. They are homing pigeons.

I see a certain order in the universe and math is one way of making it visible.

You will always be here with me; As long as I live, A towering figure of love.