Thus I grind to conclusion.

Public toilets have a duty to be accessible, poetry does not.

September fattens on vines. Roses flake from the wall. The smoke of harmless fires drifts to my eyes. This is plenty. This is more than enough.

We are difficult. Human beings are difficult. We’re difficult to ourselves, we’re difficult to each other.

Autumn resumes the land, ruffles the woods with smoky wings, entangles them.

As estimated, you died. Things marched, sufficient, to that end. Just so much Zyklon and leather, patented terror, so many routine cries.

Platonic England, house of solitudes, rests in its laurels and its injured stone

Dig -- the mostly uncouth -- language of grace.

Evil is not good's absence but gravity'severlasting bedrock and its fatal chainsinert, violent, the suffrage of our days.

Who now would thrust enquiry on / Beyond necessity of desire?

Real men don’t kiss with the gentleness of a butterfly’s wing.

I was built up from my dad more than anyone else.

Friends die one by one, but so, thank God, do enemies.

I thought that beauty alone would satisfy, but the soul is gone. I can’t bear those empty, staring eyes.

We [americans] have earned the moral authority, at least compared to anybody else in the world.

Most are engaged in business the greater part of their lives, because the soul abhors a vacuum and they have not discovered any continuous employment for man's nobler faculties.

To love an idea is to love it a little more than one should.

I have everything I need to enjoy my here and now - unless I am letting my consciousness be dominated by demands and expectations based on the dead past or the imagined future.

He who is only just is cruel; who Upon the earth would live were all judged justly?

Fear and ignorance are the key roots to racism.