If you write well, you don't have to dress funny.

The body is the one thing you can't fake; it's just got to be there.

You are bound, my hunch is, to make it just fine.

What a view, i said again. The river was blank and mindless with beauty. It was the most glorious thing I have ever seen. But it was not seeing, really. For once it was not just seeing. It was beholding. I beheld the river in its icy pit of brightness, in its far-below sound and indifference, in its large coil and tiny points and flashes of the moon, in its long sinuous form, in its uncomprehending consequence.

I do think the author ought to be able to give a good reason for the way things are in his poem. Not a bad question to ask oneself.

Yet technique matters, even so. God uses it, for a buffalo is not a leopard.

So much destruction in modern war takes place miles and miles away from the source of the destruction, the human being who has caused it.