The tides are in our veins, we still mirror the stars, life is your child, but there is in me Older and harder than life and more impartial, the eye that watched before there was an ocean.

Poetry is not a civilizer, rather the reverse, for great poetry appeals to the most primitive instincts.

Truly men hate the truth; they'd liefer meet a tiger on the road.

This wild swan of a world is no hunter's game.

Death's a fierce meadowlark: but to die having made / Something more equal to the centuries / Than muscle and bone, is mostly to shed weakness.

Only the drum is confident, it thinks the world has not changed

The love of freedom has been the quality of Western man.