A poem is this:/A nuance of sound/delicately operating/upon a cataract of sense/...the particulars/of a song waking/upon a bed of sound.

It is almost impossible to state what one in fact believes, because it is almost impossible to hold a belief and to define it at the same time.

Imagination though it cannot wipe out the sting of remorse can instruct the mind in its proper uses.

You have the chicken, the hen, and the rooster. The chicken goes with the hen So who is having sex with the rooster?

The beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Afraid lest he be caught up in a net of words, tripped up, bewildered and so defeated-thrown aside-a man hesitates to write down his innermost convictions.

No opinion can be trusted; even the facts may be nothing but a printer's error.