The Bud Stands For All Things, Even

Sometimes It Is Necessary To Reteach A Thing Its Loveliness

I Have Always Intended To Live Forever; But Not Until Now, To Live Now.

Goodbye, You Who Are, For Me, The Postmarks Again Of Shattered Towns--xenia, Burnt Cabins, Hornell-- Their Loneliness Given Away In Poems, Only Their Solitude Kept.

I Will Find That Special Person Who Is Wrong For Me In Just The Right Way.

Prose Is Walking; Poetry Is Flying