I never made a mistake in grammar but one in my life and as soon as I done it I seen it.

Who am I, where have I been, and where am I going?

Strange things blow in through my window on the wings of the night wind and I don't worry about my destiny.

Poetry is a sequence of dots and dashes, spelling depths, crypts, cross-lights, and moon wisps.

Poetry is a projection across silence of cadences arranged to break that silence with definite intentions of echoes, syllables, wave lengths.

Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.

Anger is the most impotent of passions. It effects nothing it goes about, and hurts the one who is possessed by it more than the one against whom it is directed.