The secret wish of poetry is to stop time.

I left parts of myself everywhere, The way absent-minded people leave Gloves and umbrellas Whose colors are sad from dispensing so much bad luck

The highest levels of consciousness are wordless.

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

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 ambition of much of today's literary theory seems to be to find ways to read literature without imagination.

The world is beautiful but not sayable. That's why we need art.