Icebergs behoove the soul (both being self-made from elements least visible) to see themselves: fleshed, fair, erected, indivisible.

Being a poet is one of the unhealthier jobs--no regular hours, so many temptations!

All my life I have lived and behaved very much like the sandpiper - just running down the edges of different countries and continents, 'looking for something'.

The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

If after I read a poem the world looks like that poem for 24 hours or so I'm sure it's a good one—and the same goes for paintings.

What one seems to want in art, in experiencing it, is the same thing that is necessary for its creation, a self-forgetful, perfectly useless concentration.

I am overcome by my own amazing sloth...Can you please forgive me and believe that it is really because I want to do something well that I don't do it at all?

Sometimes it seemsas though only intelligent people are stupid enough to fall in love & only stupid people are intelligent enough to let themselves be loved.

All the untidyactivity continues, awful but cheerful.

Democracy in the contemporary world demands, among other things, an educated and informed people.

Oh, must we dream our dreams and have them, too?

During my life, I've just wondered why I have to learn from school, not from society. And now, the answer is : the decrepit education.

Well, you've finally got a license to kill. It's about time.

You refused to fall in love with anyone else, Dmitri.” A whisper with the impact of a gun-shot. “So I had to come back for you . . . husband.

We run when we're scared, we run when we're ecstatic, we run away from our problems and run around for a good time.

It's hard enough for women to walk on high heels. And I'm on stilts!

If God had wanted us to talk more than listen, he would have given us two mouths rather than two ears.

Everything one reads is nourishment of some sort - good food or junk food - and one assumes it all goes in and has its way with your brain cells.

The search for God's presence was much of a mystery as God himself, and what was God if not a mystery?

Man is a rough-hewn and woman a finished product.

We've got all the ingredients for a sensational future.