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

Yesterday is done. Tomorrow never comes. Today is here. If you don't know what to do, sit still and listen. You may hear something. Nobody knows.

In these times you have to be an optimist to open your eyes when you awake in the morning.

The scholars and poets of an earlier time can be read only with a dictionary to help.

I glory in this world of men and women, torn with troubles, yet living on to love and laugh through it all.

We live in the time of the colossal upright oblong.

I learned you can't trust the judgment of good friends.