The urge to write poetry is like having an itch. When the itch becomes annoying enough, you scratch it.

Everything seems an echo of something else.

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.

...by the time we understand the pattern we are in, the definition we are making for ourselves, it's too late to break out of the box. We can only live in terms of the definition, like the prisoner in the cage in which he cannot lie or stand or sit, hung up in justice to be viewed by the populace. Yet the definition we have made of ourselves is ourselves. To break out of it, we must make a new self. But how can the self make a new self when the selfness which it is, is the only substance from which the new self can be made?

...a man does not die for words. He dies for his relation to them.

For whatever you live is life.

I don't expect you'll hear me writing any poems to the greater glory of Ronald and Nancy Reagan.