...few young poets [are] testing their poems against the ear. They're writing for the page, and the page, let me tell you, is a cold bed.

To conquer a piece of earth and make it as beautiful as one can dream of it being: That is art, too. A man cannot be separated from the earth. I come out of the garden every day feeling, oh, inspired in a way that one needs in order to convert the daily-ness of the life into something greater than that little life itself.

The unconscious creates, the ego edits.

I refuse to turn to theology to justify the life or redeem it. There is a question always of the connection to the eternal. I say to myself above all, keep alive your conviction that there are sacred elements in the life in the practice of the life that must be respected. But the conviction in the existence of the sacred does not necessarily imply that you need to believe in a creator, because we are the ones that made the sacred.

The heart breaks and breaks and lives by breaking it is necessary to go through dark and deeper dark and not to turn

We have all been expelled from the Garden, but the ones who suffer most in exile are those who are still permitted to dream of perfection.

Deftly they opened the brain of a child, and it was full of flying dreams.