The sea is always the same: and yet the sea always changes.

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

Poetry is a mock of a cry at finding a million dollars and a mock of a laugh at losing it.

The fog comes on little cat feet.

Come on, you Do you want to live forever?

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.

A liar is a liar and lives on the lies he tells and dies in a life of lies.