There’s No Preparation For Poetry.

Silence Is The Only Language God Speaks.

Poems Are Other People's Snapshots In Which We See Our Own Lives.

The Stone Is A Mirror Which Works Poorly. Nothing In It But Dimness. Your Dimness Or Its Dimness, Who's To Say? In The Hush Your Heart Sounds Like A Black Cricket.

If The Sky Falls They Shall Have Clouds For Supper.

Poetry Is An Orphan Of Silence. The Words Never Quite Equal The Experience Behind Them.