In the end is my beginning.

Good poets borrow, great poets steal

the ordinary man's experience is chaotic, irregular, fragmentary. [He] falls in love or reads Spinoza, and these two experiences have nothing to do with each other, or with the noise of the typewriter, or the smell of cooking; in the mind of the poet these experiences are always forming new wholes

For I have known them all already, known them all— Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.

Gin and drugs, dear lady, gin and drugs.

So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.

Disillusion can become itself an illusion If we rest in it.