Poetry is God's work.

There is, in the heart, the hard-rendering profit. As if we were plucking the leaves from the trees.

Poetry is God's work.

Today, from the bridge, the East River is sparkling. The money is swirling around the tall buildings like tides or like tithes, And I wonder, does anyone swim in this river, I wonder, does anyone pray?

To think of the myriad ways that we live is to think of the ways that we die: Delinquent in our brains, in debt-- If we settle, then, our due account and walk through the forest, Will we finally be free?

It should be everyone's right in a capitalist system to have some way to take advantage of compound interest.

It is one thing to write a good sentence, another to write a good book.