I'd like to get away from earth awhile / And then come back to it and begin over.

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

I hold it to be the inalienable right of anybody to go to hell in his own way.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Writing free verse is like playing tennis with the net down.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street, But not to call me back or say good-bye.

Only where love and need are one, And the work is play for mortal stakes Is the deed ever truly done For Heaven and the future's sakes