Stilled legendary depth: It was as deep as England. It held Pike too immense to stir, so immense and old That past nightfall I dared not cast.

What’s writing really about? It’s about trying to take fuller possession of the reality of your life.

The sea cries with its meaningless voice, Treating alike its dead and its living

I shall also take you forth and carve our names together in a yew tree, haloed with stars.

Prose, narratives, etcetera, can carry healing. Poetry does it more intensely.

The real mystery is this strange need. Why can't we just hide it and shut up? Why do we have to blab? Why do human beings need to confess?

You are who you choose to be.

where are the gods the gods hate us the gods have run away the gods have hidden in holes the gods are dead of the plague they rot and stink too there never were any gods there’s only death

The dreamer in her Had fallen in love with me and she did not know it. That moment the dreamer in me Fell in love with her and I knew it

The deeps are cold: In that darkness camaraderie does not hold: Nothing touches but, clutching, devours.

The world's decay where the wind's hands have passed, And my head, worn out with love, at rest In my hands, and my hands full of dust.

As hard as it is, grieving can be a gift, if we use it to examine our own lives and come closer to those we love.

I saw a street car conductor today with one brown eye and one blue. Wouldn't he make a nice villain for a detective story?

Admire all the stars, but what you really must admire is your very own Sun, the cosmic candle of our beloved Earth!

If the story's interesting and it's a compelling script, I'd be thrilled to be a part of it.

You ought to serve on the platform you run on.

It's not like I'm not writing great music anymore, it's just that I want to take it another level.

People who are able to do their own thinking should not allow others to do it for them.

I am a capitalist and I believe in making a profit.

I used to have a lot of envy for those musicians who have been universally loved.

On radio, you're an artist. On TV, you're a servant.