You can find the entire cosmos lurking in its least remarkable objects.

Somewhere out there the world must have an end.

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.

I cannot imagine any writer who would not fight for his peace and quiet.

Poets yearn, of course, to be published, read, and understood, but they do little, if anything, to set themselves above the common herd and the daily grind.

No one feels good at four in the morning. If ants feel good at four in the morning —three cheers for the ants.

I have sympathy for young people, for their growing pains, but I balk when these growing pains are pushed into the foreground, when you make these young people the only vehicles of lifes wisdom.