Empty pockets make empty heads.

Your thighs are appletrees whose blossoms touch the sky. Your knees are a southern breeze.

Poets are being pursued by the philosophers today, out of the poverty of philosophy. God damn it, you might think a man had no business to be writing, to be a poet unless some philosophic stinker gave him permission.

A new world is only a new mind.

Love is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood's edge

It's a strange courage you give me ancient star: Shine alone in the sunrise toward which you lend no part!

But time in only another liar, so go along the wall a little further: if blackberries prove bitter there'll be mushrooms, fairy-ring mushrooms in the grass, sweetest of all fungi.