I was too slow a mover to be a boxer. It was much easier to be a poet.

And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices in the lost lilac and the lost sea voices and the weak spirit quickens to rebel for the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell quickens to recover.

To each individual the world will take on a different connotation of meaning-the important lies in the desire to search for an answer.

Love compels cruelty To those who do not understand love.

With a poem you can say 'I got my feeling into words for myself. I now have the equivalent in words for that much of what I have felt.'

For last year's words belong to last year's language And next year's words await another voice.

We do not pass twice through the same door Or return to the door through which we did not pass.