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

May your hand be full for always if only with another hand. May your heart be empty only long enough to give you cause to fill it up again with love. May your soul be lost by you only to be found by God.

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.

Even when you feel you've reached the end or edge of life, hold on. Life itself will ultimately take care of you.

I chose the shadows; they did not choose me. I stay here securely not just because I feel plain, but because disappearance is by now the easy way. The habit. The worn path that I can trod knowingly and be assured safe passage home.

Poetry is fact given over to imagery.

Love is a sweet thing caught a momentand held in a golden eye.