The good poet sticks to his real loves, to see within the realm of possibility. He never tries to hold hands with God or the human race.

Poetry is not a way of saying things; it's a way of seeing things.

The body, what is it, Father, but a sign To love the force that grows us, to give back What in Thy palm is senselessness and mud?

But with exquisite breathing you smile, with satisfaction of love, And I touch you again as you tick in the silence and settle in sleep.

To make the child in your own image is a capital crime, for your image is not worth repeating. The child knows this and you know it. Consequently you hate each other.

Poetry is innocent, not wise. It does not learn from experience, because each poetic experience is unique.

The good poet sticks to his real loves, to see within the realm of possibility. He never tries to hold hands with God or the human race.