Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt keeps breathing a small breath.

Love is not love until love's vulnerable.

And I walked, I walked through the light air; I moved with the morning.

In the kingdom of bang and blab.

Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt keeps breathing a small breath.

Art is the means we have of undoing the damage of haste. It's what everything else isn't.

Any fool can take a bad line out of a poem; it takes a real pro to throw out a good line.