When poems are no good they don't make any sense.

We look and see what we see in a mirror, and we believe it. That's important, the question of belief. The question is: Should we believe what we see in a mirror?

Break a vase, and the love that reassembles the fragments is stronger than that love which took its symmetry for granted when it was whole.

I look in the mirror. There's me. What's in the mirror is not real. So am I unreal?

We read, we travel, we become.

The English language is nobody's special property.

Any serious attempt to try to do something worthwhile is ritualistic.