Erotic love is one of the highest forms of contemplation.
Crooked cards and straight whiskey, Slow horses and fast women.
Man thrives where angels would die of ecstasy and where pigs would die of disgust.
As Aristotle said, you have to be an aristocrat or a reactionary to write a good proletarian poem.
It takes great labor to uncover the convincing simple speech of the heart. Poetic candor comes with hard labor, so even does impetuosity and impudence.
The free, creative, loving people who shine so brightly in my memory of studios and coffee shops have become models for a huge section of the population. If they in turn can just stay alive in the face of power and terror, they may become the decisive section.