A poet can't afford to be aloof. The tools of his trade are the people he bumps up against.
If I could do it over, I'd do better.
Cats have it all - admiration, an endless sleep, and company only when they want it.
and if the world breaks down, I'll be around.
If you love somebody, tell them.
I cannot speculate on what our cluttered mind will save- sleepy Sundays, or a nosebleed after love. I know only the dying heart needs the nourishment of memory to live beyond too many winters.