I like to prowl ordinary places.I feel sorry for us all or glad for us allcaught alive togetherand awkward in that way.there's nothing better than the jokeof usthe seriousness of usthe dullness of us

hate contains truth. beauty is a facade.

waitingin a life full of little storiesfor a death to come

it's so easy to be a poetand so hard to be a man.

I wait on my fix:I am a poetry junkie.

it's good to have things done withwhen they don't workit's also good not to hateor even forgetthe person you've failed with.

I like to prowl ordinary placesand taste the people-from a distance.

for meobedience to another is the decayof self

love needs too much help, he said.hate takes care of itself.

the lies of centuries, the lies of love, the lies of Socrates and Blake and Christwill be your bedmates and tombstonesin a death that will never end.

for meobedience to another is the decay of self.for though every being is similareach being is differentand to herd our differencesunder one lawdegrades each self.

When you waste one hour of your time, you have wasted your life.

There are no extraordinary men... just extraordinary circumstances that ordinary men are forced to deal with.

Love is difficult, because loving is not enough: We must, like God, ourselves be Love.

Women have a level of outward compassion that a lot of men don't necessarily have. Guys feel as deeply as women, but they don't share it as much.

When a boy finds someone who takes an interest in him, he responds and follows.

Art is a never-ending dance of illusions.

Can the mind become completely still without coercion, without compulsion, without discipline?

The miracle of the seed and the soil is not available by affirmation; it is only available by labor.

It's hard to imagine there's a place for great writing inside a multinational conglomerate.

For man is a plant, not fixed in the earth, nor immovable, but heavenly, whose head, rising as it were from a root upwards, is turned towards heaven.