You touch things lightly or deeply; you move along because life herself moves, and you can’t stop it.
When we die we are only stories in the minds of others, I thought
I was on the verge of jumping into one of those holes in life out of which we emerge a bit tattered and bloody, though we remain sure nonetheless that we had to make the jump.
I thought, frankly, that it would be more pleasant to write a memoir than it was.
The reason to moderate is to avoid having to quit.
Poetry at its best is the language your soul would speak if you could teach your soul to speak.