If the poet can no longer speak for society, but only for himself, then we are at the last ditch.

Real love is never perplexed, never qualifies, never rejects, never demands. It replenishes, by grace of restoring unlimited circulation. It burns, because it knows the true meaning of sacrifice. It is life illuminated.

Even the idiot may have a message for us

Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths. We all derive from the same source. There is no mystery about the origin of things. We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, only to discover what is already there.

Man has demonstrated that he is master of everything - except his own nature.

We are swimming on the face of time and all else has drowned, is drowning, or will drown.

To have her here in bed with me, breathing on me, her hair in my mouth—I count that something of a miracle.