I prefer the absurdity of writing poems to the absurdity of not writing poems.

Dying - you can't do that to a cat.

After every war someone has to tidy up.

It's a well-known fact: in order to follow doctor's orders, you have to be healthy as a horse.

Something doesn't start at its usual time. Something doesn't happen as it should. Someone was always, always here, then suddenly disappeared and stubbornly stays disappeared.

All the best have something in common, a regard for reality, an agreement to its primacy over the imagination.

Memory at last has what I sought.