The greatest cunning is to have none at all.

Always the path of American destiny has been into the unknown. Always there arose enough reserves of strength, balances of sanity, portions of wisdom to carry the nation through to a fresh start with ever-renewing vitality.

There are men and women so lonely they believe God, too, is lonely.

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

Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands and goes to work.

Poetry is a slipknot tightened around a time-beat of one thought, two thoughts, and a last interweaving thought there is not yet a number for.

When I was writing pretty poor poetry, this girl with midnight black hair told me to go on.