...yes, I am your priest, your magician, your lover - I make charms to incant your presence...

...some nights I'd sneak out and listen to the radio in my Dad's old Chevy - children need solitude - they don't teach that in school...

...the wet brush of snowflakes was like your kisses everywhere ...

...no good writing flows from a polluted well - you can write about monsters, but you can't be one...

...I don't just wish you rain, Beloved - I wish you the beauty of storms...

...true love is an irrevocable act - you can only give your heart away once - after that, you give as much as you have left ...

...wherever there is society, there is authority and the temptation to disobedience because our individual wills refuse to submit...

...you think so logically...like a hawk soaring - I feel so chaotically...like a kite without a tail plummeting to earth...

...you fantasize about me reading my poems to you - it doesn't work that way - I write down everything later - living is not an after-thought...

...if you always move in certainty, your writing will be flat - creativity is a rugged terrain...

...is worship too strong a word? yes, I worship you - to worship is to give worth to something – isn’t that what love is all about?...

Only yesterday a young woman came to me wanting a trap set for a man with a sweet smile and lithe arms. She was a fool, not for wanting him, but for wanting more of him than that.

Don't offer me advice give me money.

Music has just as much to do with movement and body as it does soul and intellect.

Human will does not by liberty obtain grace, but by grace obtains liberty.

He had gone to the higher Sierras... [about Ralph Waldo Emerson's death]

Very often, all the activity of the human mind is directed not in revealing the truth, but in hiding the truth

I am not commanding you, but I want to test the sincerity of your love by comparing it to the earnestness of others.

Right now, American law bars the admission of aliens suspected of terrorist activity - but not of terrorist sympathies.

Dear God, thank you for my life. I forgot how big and wonderful it is.

Is it not certain that the Creator yawns in earthquake and thunder and other popular displays, but toils in rounding the delicate spiral of a shell? -Yeats, The Trembling of the Veil