A book is never a masterpiece: it becomes one. Genius is the talent of a dead man.
An expert is a damn fool a long way from home.
Poetry is a sky dark with a wild-duck migration.
I fell in love, not deep, but I fell several times and then fell out.
Corn wind in the fall, come off the black lands, come off the whisper of the silk hangers, the lap of the flat spear leaves.
Gather the stars if you wish it so Gather the songs and keep them. Gather the faces of women. Gather for keeping years and years. And then... Loosen your hands, let go and say good-bye. Let the stars and songs go. Let the faces and years go. Loosen your hands and say good-bye.