We offer you the landscape of your birth -- Exquisite and despoiled. We all share blame. We cannot ask forgiveness of the earth For killing what we cannot even name.

There are some truths about life that can be expressed only as stories, or songs, or images. Art delights, instructs, consoles. It educates our emotions.

Money. You don't know where it's been, but you put it where your mouth is. And it talks!

The new year always brings us what we want Simply by bringing us along—to see A calendar with every day uncrossed, A field of snow without a single footprint.

Everyone enjoys stories of double lives and secret identities. Children have Superman; intellectuals have Wallace Stevens.

Poetry offers a way of understanding and expressing existence that is fundamentally different from conceptual thought.

Teach us the names of what we have destroyed.

My blessed California, you are so wise. You render death abstract, efficient, clean. Your afterlife is only real estate, And in his kingdom Death must stay unseen.

Poetry is not a creed or dogma. It is a special way of speaking and listening.

What we conceal Is always more than what we dare confide. Think of the letters that we write our dead.

Being so deeply rooted in one place and culture allows a genuine writer to experiment wildly with the material without ever losing touch with its essence.

I died of a broken heart.Oh! And the gunshot wound to the chest!

There are no taboos in bed, and there shouldn't be any taboos in bed.

I was trained from the beginning to work, to save, and to give.

Anything a man can imagine, another can create

Everybody Sails alone, but we can travel side by side

The vulgar only laugh, but never smile; whereas well-bred people often smile, but seldom laugh.

No man can go to Heaven, but everyman can build one!

The pattern of the narrative never of necessity wants to end, it never has to.

The man filled with good qualities like Truth, Love, absence of jealousy, ego and hatred, can see God without searching for Him. He becomes a Jnani (a man of spiritual wisdom).

To put it in a nutshell, he was afflicted with a love of literature. It was the fatal nature of this disease to substitute a phantom for reality.