Love Has Earth To Which She Clings.

So Was I Once Myself A Swinger Of Birches. And So I Dream Of Going Back To Be.

You're Searching... For Things That Don't Exist; I Mean Beginnings. Ends And Beginnings - There Are No Such Things. There Are Only Middles.

If Society Fits You Comfortably Enough, You Call It Freedom.

It Is Absurd To Think That The Only Way To Tell If A Poem Is Lasting Is To Wait And See If It Lasts. The Right Reader Of A Good Poem Can Tell The Moment It Strikes Him That He Has Taken An Immortal Wound-that He Will Never Get Over It.

There Is No Love. There's Only Love Of Men And Women, Love Of Children, Love Of Friends, Of Men, Of God: Divine Love, Human Love, Parental Love, Roughly Discriminated For The Rough.