What is there to do when people die - people so dear and rare - but bring them back by remembering?

So let the world go, but hold fast to joy.

Time spent with poets is never wasted.

I know you have much to bear with in me, and I really do sometimes in you, but I have never looked at friendship in a deep sense as easy or entirely comfortable.

More than any other beauty (though it is true of all beauty except in art) passion seems to me to have the seeds of its own destruction in it.

For to be desperate is to discover strength. / We die of comfort and by conflict live.

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.