My two great heroes are W. B. Yeats and Federico Garcia Lorca.

I'm neither left or right. I'm just staying home tonight, getting lost in that hopeless little screen.

A woman watches her body uneasily, as though it were an unreliable ally in the battle for love.

God is alive. Magic is afoot. God is alive. Magic is afoot. God is afoot. Magic is alive. Alive is afoot. Magic never died. God never sickened. Many poor men lied. Many sick men lied. Magic never weakened. Magic never hid. Magic always ruled. God is afoot. God was ruler though his funeral lengthened. Though his mourners thickened Magic never fled.

The moon is swimming naked and the summer night is fragrant with a mighty expectation of relief.

Dream after dream we all lie in each other's arms

I was 15 when I first became deeply touched by the rhythm and structure of words.