A liar goes in fine clothes, a liar goes in rags, a liar is a liar, clothes or no clothes.

I have in later years taken to Euclid, Whitehead, Bertrand Russell, in an elemental way.

And all poets love dust and mist because all the last answers. Go running back to dust and mist.

Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable.

Time is the coin of our live. We must take care how we spend it.

The machine yes the machine never wastes anybody's time never watches the foreman never talks back.

I fell in love, not deep, but I fell several times and then fell out.