A poet can't afford to be aloof. The tools of his trade are the people he bumps up against.

There is no other way to find ourselves but in each others faces.

Everybody has the answers or they'll make them up for you. Just once I'd like to hear a brand-new question.

People ask me why I connected. It was presumptuous of me to say, but I'm Everyman. The difference is I put my thoughts into words.

We come into the world alone. We go away the same. We're meant to spend the interlude between in closeness or so we tell ourselves. But it's a long way from the morning to the evening.

Be gentle with me, new love. Treat me tenderly. I need the gentle touch, the soft voice, the candlelight after nine. There's been so many who didn't understand so give me all the love I see in your timid eyes but give it gently Please.

Strangers are just friends waiting to happen