When I walk I part the air and always the air moves in to fill the spaces where my body's been.

There's a certain point, when you're writing autobiographical stuff, where you don't want to misrepresent yourself. It would be dishonest.

It's very hard to write humor.

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth. There is no happiness like mine. I have been eating poetry.

Once you start describing nothingness, you end up with somethingness.

We’re only here for a short while. And I think it’s such a lucky accident, having been born, that we’re almost obliged to pay attention.

Even this late it happens: the coming of love, the coming of light.