The summer that I was ten - Can it be there was only one summer that I was ten? It must have been a long one then.

Love is ... the bite into bread again.

Take earth for your own large room and the floor of earth carpeted with sunlight and hung round with silver wind for your dancing place.

The summer that I was ten - Can it be there was only one summer that I was ten? It must have been a long one then.

Bat doesn't hit ball, bat meets it.

The best poetry has its roots in the subconscious to a great degree. Youth, naivety, reliance on instinct more than learning and method, a sense of freedom and play, even trust in randomness, is necessary to the making of a poem.

Poetry can magnify experience.