Time is a sandpile we run our fingers in.

Poetry is the harnessing of the paradox of earth cradling life and then entombing it.

Man is a long time coming. Man will yet win. Brother may yet line up with brother: This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.There are men who can't be bought.

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

Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me.

There are dreams stronger than death. Men and women die holding these dreams.

The greatest certainty in life is death. The greatest uncertainty is the time.