instant intimacy was too often followed by disillusion.

I simply adore being alone - I find it a consuming thirst - and when that thirst is slaked, then I am happy.

Old age is not an illness, it is a timeless ascent. As power diminishes, we grow toward the light.

Once more I realize that solitude is my element, and the reason is that extreme awareness of other people (all naturally solitary people must feel this) precludes awareness of one's self, so after a while the self no longer knows that it exists.

At some point I believe one has to stop holding back for fear of alienating some imaginary reader or real relative or friend, and come out with personal truth.

Read between the lines.Then meet me in the silence if you can.

Poetry finds its perilous equilibrium somewhere between music and speech.