Poetry is a dance music measuring buck-and-wing follies along with the gravest and stateliest dead-marches.

You know being born is important to you. You know nothing else was ever so important to you.

Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.

If the facts are against you, argue the law. If the law is against you, argue the facts. If the law and the facts are against you, pound the table and yell like hell

Such a Big miracle in such a tiny baby. Big things often have small beginnings A baby is God's opinion that life should go on.

Poetry is a plan for a slit in the face of a bronze fountain goat and the path of fresh drinking water.

I want to do the right thing, but often I don't know just what the right thing is. Every day I know I have come short of what I would like to have done. Yet as the years pass and I see the very world itself, with its oceans and mountains and plains, as something unfinished, a peculiar little satisfaction hunts out the corners of my heart. Sunsets and evening shadows find me regretful at task's undone, but sleep and the dawn and the air of the morning touch me with freshening hopes. Strange things blow in through my window on the wings of the night wind and I don't worry about my destiny.