I have written every poem, every novel, for the same purpose-to find out what I think, to know where I stand.

It always comes back to the same necessity: go deep enough and there is a bedrock of truth, however hard.

Nobody stays special when they're old, Anna. That's what we have to learn.

One of the springs of poetry is joy.

all great people are humble because great people have great work and are humbled by the largeness of their dreams.

I would like to believe when I die that I have given myself away like a tree that sows seed every spring and never counts the loss, because it is not loss, it is adding to future life. It is the tree's way of being. Strongly rooted perhaps, but spilling out its treasure on the wind.

Without darkness, nothing comes to birth, As without light, nothing flowers.