A person rises on a word and falls on a syllable.

In cities no one notices specific dying. Dying is a quality of the air. It's everywhere and nowhere.

Technology and violence are interdependent.

One of my earliest memories as a reader - I don't know how old I was, quite young - was a poem of his, called "Fog," and I remember the first verse, "The fog comes / on little cat feet".

Only a catastrophe gets our attention. We want them, we depend on them. As long as they happen somewhere else. This is where California comes in. Mud slides, brush fires, coastal erosion, mass killings, et cetera. We can relax and enjoy these disasters because in our hearts we feel that California deserves whatever it gets. Californians invented the concept of life-style. This alone warrants their doom.

You live in a tower that soars to heaven and goes unpunished by God.

Hardship makes the world obscure.