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

the wasting of time is the most personal, most private, most intimate form of conversation with oneself, as well as with another.

In the end I would rather wonder than know

I remember I was a child, and when I grew up I was a poet. It all happened at sixty miles an hour and on days when the clock stopped and all of humanity fit into a little chapel, into a pinecone, a shot of ouzo, a snail's shell, a piece of soggy rye on the pavement.

The industrial world destroys nature not because it doesn’t love it but because it is not afraid of it.

[On filling out a grant application:] I seek an extended period of time, free from all distractions, so that I might be free to be distracted.

I am convinced that the first lyric poem was written at night, and that the moon was witness to the event and that the event was witness to the moon. For me, the moon has always been the very embodiment of lyric poetry.