It is necessary ... for a man to go away by himself ... to sit on a rock ... and ask, 'Who am I, where have I been, and where am I going?

Poetry is the establishment of a metaphorical link between white butterfly-wings and the scraps of torn-up love-letters.

There is a music for lonely hearts nearly always. If the music dies down there is a silence. Almost the same as the movement of music. To know silence perfectly is to know music.

Poetry is a series of explanations of life, fading off into horizons too swift for explanations.

There is only one child in the world and the Child’s name is All Children.

Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you.

What is there more of in the world than anything else? Ends.