Sometime they'll give a war and nobody will come.

After the sunset on the prairie, there are only the stars

Lips half-willing in a doorway. Lips half-singing at a window. Eyes half-dreaming in the walls. Feet half-dancing in a kitchen. Even the clocks half-yawn the hours And the farmers make half-answers.

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?

If I added to their pride of America, I am happy.

Poetry is the cipher key to the five mystic wishes packed in a hollow silver bullet fed to a flying fish.

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.