He burned his house down for the fire insurance and spent the proceeds on a telescope.

There are tones of voices that mean more than words.

Heaven gives its glimpses only to those not in position to look too close.

It is absurd to think that the only way to tell if a poem is lasting is to wait and see if it lasts. The right reader of a good poem can tell the moment it strikes him that he has taken an immortal wound-that he will never get over it.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall, and wants it down.

In heaven we are all ghostwriters, if we write at all.

Writing a poem is discovering.