There is one who remembers the way to your door: Life you may evade, but Death you shall not.

When a poet's mind is perfectly equipped for its work, it is constantly amalgamating disparate experience ?in the mind of the poet these experiences are always forming new wholes.

My mind may be American but my heart is British.

Those who arrive at the end of the journey are not those who began.

But at my back from time to time I hear The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring. O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter And on her daughter They wash their feet in soda water.

So I find words I never thought to speak In streets I never thought I should revisit When I left my body on a distant shore.

Where does one go from a world of insanity? Somewhere on the other side of despair.