At night the sky was very near, sprawled in star smoke and gamma cataclysms, but she didn't see it the way she used to, as soul extension, dumb guttural wonder, a thing that lived outside language in the oldest part of her.

Brilliant people never think of the lives they smash, being brilliant.

The world is full of abandoned meanings. In the commonplace I find unexpected themes and intensities.

War is the form nostalgia takes when men are hard-pressed to say something good about their country.

It is all falling indelibly into the past.

When I work I have a sculptor's sense of the shape of the words I'm making. I use a machine with larger than average letters: the bigger the better.

Coming and going I am leaving. I will go and come. Leaving has come to me. We all, shall all, will all be left. Because I am here and where. And I will go or not or never. And I have seen what I will see. If I am where I will be. Because nothing comes between me.