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

By night the skyscraper looms in the smoke and the stars and has a soul.

There was always the consolation that if I didn't like what I wrote I could throw it away or burn it.

Poetry is a theorem of a yellow-silk handkerchief knotted with riddles, sealed in a balloon tied to the tail of a kite flying in a white wind against a blue sky in spring.

It is necessary now and then for a man to go away by himself and experience loneliness; to sit on a rock in the forest and to ask of himself, 'Who am I, and where have I been, and where am I going?'...If one is not careful, one allows diversions to take up one's time-the stuff of life

Now is the time. It is never too late to start something.

Back of every mistaken venture and defeat is the laughter of wisdom, if you listen.