I grew up with the biologists. I know how they think.

I don't think I solve problems in my poetry; I think I uncover the problems.

People cry at weddings for the same reason they cry at happy endings: because they so desperately want to believe in something they know is not credible.

Write down the thoughts and even more, write down a specific line. If you don't, it'll fly away forever.

As all historians know, the past is a great darkness, and filled with echoes.

I hate to break this to you: One of these days I'm going to die. I expect that when I croak I'll no longer be using Twitter, unless I can do it from the grave.

Why does the mind do such things? Turn on us, rend us, dig the claws in. If you get hungry enough, they say, you start eating your own heart. Maybe it's much the same.