Until, accustomed to disappointments, you can let yourself rule and be ruled by these strings or emanations that connect everything together, you haven't fully exorcised the demon of doubt that sets you in motion like a rocking horse that cannot stop rocking.

I write with experiences in mind, but I don't write about them, I write out of them.

I lost my ridiculous accent without acquiring another

Poetry is mostly hunches.

Reading is a pleasure, but to finish reading, to come to the blank space at the end, is also a pleasure.

... the first step of the terrible journey toward feeling somebody should act, that ends in utter confusion and hopelessness, east of the sun and west of the moon.

Just when I thought there wasn't room enough for another thought in my head, I had this great idea—