Consciousness even in my sleep changes primary colors. The features of my face melt like a wax doll in the fire. And who can consent to see in the mirror the mere face of man?

Be young forever, seasons of the earth.

I have defined poetry as a 'passionate pursuit of the Real.

Two attributes of a poet, avidity of the eye and the desire to describe that which he sees.

I liked beaches, swimming pools, and clinics for there they were the bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh. I pitied them and myself, but this will not protect me. The word and the thought are over.

Poetry is news brought to the mountains by a unicorn and an echo.

The death of a man is like the fall of a mighty nation That had valiant armies, captains, and prophets, And wealthy ports and ships all over the seas.