Life has a practice of living you, if you don't live it.

Uncontradicting solitude Supports me on its giant palm; And like a sea-anemone Or simple snail, there cautiously Unfolds, emerges, what I am.

He married a woman to stop her getting away Now she's there all day.

In everyone there sleeps a sense of life lived according to love.

One of the quainter quirks of life is that we shall never know who dies on the dame day as we do ourselves.

It is fatal to decide, intellectually, what good poetry is because you are then in honour bound to try to write it, instead of the poems that only you can write.

Home is so sad. It stays as it was left, / Shaped to the comfort of the last to go / As if to win them back