We're losing a species every few seconds. We cannot put them back. If we change our mind and say, 'Oops, we made a mistake' - it's too late. This is the world we live with.

From what we cannot hold the stars are made.

I have with me all that I do not knowI have lost none of it.

My cradle was a shoe.

Of course there is nothing the matter with the stars It is my emptiness among them While they drift farther away in the invisible morning

Poetry is a way of looking at the world for the first time.

Modern poetry, for me, began not in English at all but in Spanish, in the poems of Lorca.