I turned to speak to God About the world's despair But to make bad matters worse I found God wasn't there.

What you want, what you're hanging around in the world waiting for, is for something to occur to you.

The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree Has given my heart A change of mood And saved some part Of a day I had rued.

The nearest friends can go With anyone to death, comes so far short They might as well not try to go at all.

Lovers, forget your love And list to the love of these She a window flower And he a winter breeze.

Style is less the man than the way a man takes himself.

The first thing I do in any town I come to is ask if it has a bookstore.