Mediocrity is perhaps due not so much to lack of imagination as to lack of faith in the imagination, lack of the capacity for this abandon.

The poem has a social effect of some kind whether or not the poet wills it to have. It has a kenetic force, it sets in motion...elements in the reader that would otherwise remain stagnant.

Every day, every day I hear enough to fill a year of nights with wondering.

You can live for years next door to a big pine tree, honored to have so venerable a neighbor, even when it sheds needles all over your flowers or wakes you, dropping big cones onto your deck at still of night.

Nothing we do has the quickness, the sureness, the deep intelligence living at peace would have.

The world is not with us enough. O taste and see.

Writing poetry is a process of discovery...you can smell the poem before you see it....Like some animal.