“I walk through the old yellow sunlightto get to my kitchen tablethe poem about melying there with the booksin which I am listedamong the dead and future Dylans”

“Who could have foretoldthe heart grows oldfrom touching others”

“Deprivation is the mother of poetry.”

“first of all nothing will happen and a little laternothing will happen again”

“There is a crack in everything.That’s how the light gets in.”

“It was a dance of masks and every mask was perfect because every mask was a real face and every face was areal mask so there was no mask and there was no face for there was but one dance in which there was butone mask but one true face which was the same and which was a thing without a name which changed andchanged into itself over and over.”

“… i didn’t fall in love of courseit’s never up to youbut she was walking back and forthand i was passing through”

“And I’ll dance with you in Vienna,I’ll be wearing a river’s disguise.The hyacinth wild on my shouldermy mouth on the dew of your thighs.And I’ll bury my soul in a scrapbook,with the photographs there and the moss.And I’ll yield to the flood of your beauty,my cheap violin and my cross.”