A book is never a masterpiece: it becomes one. Genius is the talent of a dead man.
Poetry is a fresh morning spider-web telling a story of moonlit hours of weaving and waiting during a night.
There are people who want to be everywhere at once, and they get nowhere
Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo. Shovel them under and let me work. I am the grass. I cover all.
Poetry is a sky dark with a wild-duck migration.
What is there more of in the world than anything else? Ends.