When one's not writing poems - and I'm not at the moment - you wonder how you ever did it. It's like another country you can't reach.
We only keep what we lose.
What we have not has made us what we are. / ... / What we are not drives us to consummation.
The more articulate one is, the more dangerous words become.
life is always bringing unexpected gifts.
we are never done with thinking about our parents, I suppose, and come to know them better long after they are dead than we ever did when they were alive.