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

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.

I am not a joiner. Somewhere I once said that people join clubs now for the very reason they once carried them, a need for security. Maybe I'm alone more often than I should be, because I try to find security within myself.

I have never known a cat that couldn't quiet me down just by walking slowly past my chair.

If you love somebody, tell them.

Do not ask the definition of a friend. He/She is that one without whose company death and dying set in earlier and living is made more pleasurable.

No map to help us find the tranquil flat lands, clearings calm, fields without mean fences. Rolling down the other side of life our compass is the sureness of ourselves. Time may make us rugged, ragged round the edges, but know and understand that love is still the safest place to land.