The words of a dead man are modified in the guts of the living.

And make us as Newton was, who in his garden watching The apple falling towards England, became aware Between himself and her of an eternal tie.

One cannot walk through an assembly factory and not feel that one is in Hell.

My face looks like a wedding-cake left out in the rain.

See without looking, hear without listening, breathe without asking.

Those to whom evil is doneDo evil in return.

Follow, poet, follow right To the bottom of the night, With your unconstraining voice Still persuade us to rejoice; With the farming of a verse Make a vineyard of the curse, Sing of human unsuccess In a rapture of distress; In the deserts of the heart Let the healing fountain start, In the prison of his days Teach the free man how to praise.