The passion that transforms life, and art, did not seem to be mine.

That is my story, simply told. Please do not ask again. I have told you in order to issue a warning. I have been damaged. Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive.

hen we mourn those who die young — those who have been robbed of time — we weep for lost joys. We weep for opportunities and pleasures we ourselves have never known. We feel sure that somehow that young body would have known the yearning delight for which we searched in vain all our lives.

We are here to add to the sum of human goodness. To prove the thing exists.

Poetry contains almost all you need to know about life.

We do have choice, but not without some agony.

For why trap what is already trapped? It is only in flight that we know the freedom of the bird