Before I built a wall I'd ask to know What I was walling in or walling out, And to whom I was like to give offence. Something there is that doesn't love a wall, That wants it down.

The only certain freedom's in departure.

Every poem is a momentary stay against the confusion of the world.

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

Poets like Shakespeare know more about poetry than any $25 an hour man.

Unless I'm wrong I but obey The urge of a song: I'm-bound-away! And I may return If dissatisfied With what I learn From having died.

There never was any heart truly great and generous, that was not also tender and compassionate.