I had been keeping an off eye on the advertising field, thinking I might become an idea man and a copywriter.

Poetry is a fresh morning spider-web telling a story of moonlit hours of weaving and waiting during a night.

I'll die propped up in bed trying to do a poem about America.

I cried over beautiful things, knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

I had taken a course in Ethics. I read a thick textbook, heard the class discussions and came out of it saying I hadn't learned a thing I didn't know before about morals and what is right or wrong in human conduct.

Poetry is a sky dark with a wild-duck migration.

Poetry is an exhibit of one pendulum connecting with other and unseen pendulums inside and outside the one seen.