Nymphets do not occur in polar regions.

Poetry involves the mysteries of the irrational perceived through rational words.

Treading the soil of the moon, palpating its pebbles, tasting the panic and splendor of the event, feeling in the pit of one's stomach the separation from Terra-these form the most romantic sensation an explorer has ever known . . . this is the only thing I can say about the matter. The utilitarian results do not interest me.

By God, I could make myself bring her that economically halved grapefruit, that sugarless breakfast.

The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.

It's a pity one can't imagine what one can't compare to anything. Genius is an African who dreams up snow.

...All my best words are deserters and do not answer the trumpet call, and the remainder are cripples.