A mind too active is no mind at all.

I can't go on flying apart just for those who want the benefit of a few verbal kicks. My God, do you know what poems like that cost? They're not written vicariously: they come out of actual suffering, real madness.

Time marks us while we are marking time.

I came where the river Ran over stones; My ears knew An early joy. And all the waters Of all the streams Sang in my veins That summer day.

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

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

How body from spirit slowly does unwind, until we are pure spirit at the end.