People, the people we really love, where did they come from? What did we do to deserve them?

I'm lucky enough to occasionally be able to do something I love - write poems - and unlucky enough that what I love confuses and overwhelms me.

If we knew the value of suffering, we would ask for it.

I study nature so as not to do foolish things.

In life, the number of beginnings is exactly equal to the number of endings ... In poetry, the number of beginnings so far exceeds the number of endings that we cannot even conceive of it.

People, the people we really love, where did they come from? What did we do to deserve them?

Every time it starts to snow, I would like to have sex.