Society's dark hull drifts further and further away. It is this place - the place of our separation, our distinction - that much of his poetry occupies.

In the middle of life, death comes to take your measurements. The visit is forgotten and life goes on. But the suit is being sewn on the sly.

It is still beautiful to hear the heart beat but often the shadow seems more real than the body.

The airy sky has taken its place leaning against the wall. It is like a prayer to what is empty And what is empty turns its face to us and whispers: 'I am not empty, I am open'.

I am carried in my shadow like a violin in its black case

I am still the place where creation does some work on itself.

A person shows himself for an instant as in a photograph but clearer and in the background something which is bigger than his shadow.

It's always so early in here, before the crossroads, before the irrevocable choices. Thank you for this life! Still I miss the alternatives. The sketches, all of them, want to become real.

But I must warn you, Miss Hathaway ... life has a way of fouling up our plans. I speak from experience.

We were created to look at one another, weren't we

Sure many people will be shocked when I win, but not me.

In mid-wood silence, thus, how sweet to be; Where all the noises, that on peace intrude, Come from the chittering cricket, bird, and bee, Whose songs have charms to sweeten solitude.

Each generation of humanity takes the earth as trustees... We ought to bequeath to posterity as many forests and orchards as we have exhausted and consumed.

A play that forces us to question our moral responsibility to the victims of human rights abuse.

To me, having 500 rolls of fabric around is the most calming thing in the world. I think it's what football is to some guys.

Do I think I'm a national treasure? I don't see why not? I don't see why I shouldn't be. I'm a good lad, really.

Look, good government doesn't look for excuses, good government gets on with the job.

I don't much live my life as if I was living in a Raymond Chandler novel, which is probably a good thing.