Dying--shucks! If you kin handle the living, what's to be afraid of the dying?

Nobody had ever told me that anything could be like this.

That summer we had been absolutely alone, together, even when people were around, the only inhabitants of the kind of floating island or magic carpet which being in love is.

For what is a poem but a hazardous attempt at self-understanding: it is the deepest part of autobiography.

There is no country but the heart.

I heard somebody open and shut the gate to the barn lot, but I didn't look around. If I didn't look around it would not be true that somebody had opened the gate with the creaky hinges, and that is a wonderful principle for a man to get hold of... What you don't know know don't hurt you, for it ain't real. They called that Idealism in my book I had when I was in college, and after I got hold of that principle I became an Idealist... If you are an Idealist it does not matter what you do or what goes on around you because it isn't real anyway.

There is nothing more alone than being in a car at night in the rain.