clarity need not be equivalent to / readability. How readable is the world?

The ghosts swarm. They speak as one person. Each has left something undone.

Poetry wants to make things mean more than they mean, says someone, as if we knew how much things meant, and in what unit of measure.

Metaphor is ritual sacrifice. It kills the look-alike. No, metaphor is homeopathy.

But here I hold your dream in my poem.

Curled up in bed, I’m young in the old way.

We are all full of discourses that we only half understand and half mean.

The crowd is made of little gods, and there is still no heaven.

The fear that all this will end. The fear that it won't.

We sleep together in the dark but confuse light with love.

Carried by light, images remain while sensation is so evanescent as to be always beyond belief.

It is everyone's bounden duty to try to get more than they have got already. If you have got two shillin' you try to make it into four shillin' . . . there is no end to it.

In greatness, life and death merge.

Congratulate yourself as a good beginner. Feel proud of God for choosing you to begin the work at hand. Accept the work freely and get started. Be grateful.

We can reach our world, if we will. The greatest lack today is not people or funds. The greatest need is prayer.

Don't judge me. You know my name, but not my story.

Reality itself is too twisted.

Once you get married, women are still implicitly expected to do the majority of the housework and take care of any future children.

Before computers, telephone lines and television connect us, we all share the same air, the same oceans, the same mountains and rivers. We are all equally responsible for protecting them

If you wonder where your child left his roller skates, try walking around the house in the dark.

He laughed. I suddenly wanted to laugh, to laugh with him, to sit here, or maybe outside in the rain, and just laugh with him. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t even smile.