People, the people we really love, where did they come from? What did we do to deserve them?
Although all poets aspire to be birds, no bird aspires to be a poet.
Art has always been aware of itself as art.
the wasting of time is the most personal, most private, most intimate form of conversation with oneself, as well as with another.
Words have a love for each other, a desire that culminates in poetry.
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.