Live life like its the last breath you take for that breath is the whole essence of living, the little things in life are what connects us to all the big things we live for

I am a writer of books in retrospect. I talk in order to understand; I teach in order to learn.

A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.

The question that he frames in all but words is what to make of a diminished thing.

Hell is a half-filled auditorium.

Skepticism, is that anything more than we used to mean when we said, Well, what have we here?

O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow, Make the day seem to us less brief... Retard the sun with gentle mist; Enchant the land with amethyst.