I love you, what star do you live on?

Separate we come, and separate we go, And this be it known, is all that we know.

I began by doing book reviews on the typewriter and then went over to short stories on the machine, meanwhile sticking to pencil for poetry.

For in this walk, this voyage, it is yourself, the profound history of your 'self,' that now as always you encounter.

Poetry will absorb and transmute, as it always has done, and glorify, all that we can know.

I'm afraid I wasn't much of a student, but my casual reading was enormous.

[At a musical concert:] . . . the music's pure algebra of enchantment.