The plain truth is we are going to die. Here I am, a teeny spec surrounded by boundless space and time, arguing with the whole of creation, shaking my fist, sputtering, growing even eloquent at times, and then-poof! I am gone. Swept off once and for all. I think that is very, very funny.

A 'truth' detached and purified of pleasures of ordinary life is not worth a damn in my view. Every grand theory and noble sentiment ought to be first tested in the kitchen-and then in bed, of course.

The stars know everything, So we try to read their minds. As distant as they are, We choose to whisper in their presence.

When people ask me how to find happiness in life I tell them, First learn how to cook.

There’s no preparation for poetry.

I slept little, read a lot, and fell in love frequently.

Poetry is an orphan of silence. The words never quite equal the experience behind them.