You don’t choose a story, it chooses you.

And all times are one time, and all those dead in the past never lived before our definition gives them life, and out of the shadow their eyes implore us. That is what all of us historical researchers believe. And we love truth.

Everything seems an echo of something else.

Poets, we know, are terribly sensitive people, and in my observation one of the things they are most sensitive about is money.

Process as process is neither morally good nor morally bad. We may judge results but not process. The morally bad agent may perform the deed which is good. The morally good agent may perform the deed which is bad. Maybe a man has to sell his soul to get the power to do good.

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

The poem is a little myth of man's capacity of making life meaningful.