“Good morning, daddy!Ain’t you heardThe boogie-woogie rumbleOf a dream deferred?Listen closely:You’ll hear their feetBeating out and beating out a -You thinkIt’s a happy beat?Listen to it closely:Ain’t you heardsomething underneathlike a -What did I say?Sure,I’m happy!Take it away!Dream BoogieHey, pop!Re-bop!Mop!Y-e-a-h!”

“If I knew what to doI’d do more than write a song for you”

“Music resembles poetry, in eachAre nameless graces which no methods teach,And which a master hand alone can reach.”

“Then you are a poet?’ she asked, fingering the flyer in her pocket.’No not at all,’ he waved his hand. ‘I am merely a character in a poem.”

“Live for everything, or die for nothing”

“Saki says that youth is like hors d’oeuvres: you are so busy thinking of the next courses you don’t notice it. When you’ve had them, you wish you’d had more hors d’oeuvres.”

“Everyone should be forcibly transplanted to another continent from their family at the age of three.”

“There is bad in all good authors: what a pity the converse isn’t true!”

“Life. This morning the sun made me adore it. It had, behind the dripping pine trees, the oriental brightness, orange and crimson, of a living being, a rose and an apple, in the physical and ideal fusion of a true and daily paradise.”

“And here face down beneath the sunAnd here upon earth’s noonward heightTo feel the always coming onThe always rising of the night”

“The kind of poem I produced in those days was hardly anything more than a sign I made of being alive, of passing or having passed, or hoping to pass, through certain intense human emotions. It was a phenomenon of orientation rather than of art, thus comparable to stripes of paint on a roadside rock or to a pillared heap of stones marking a mountain trail. But then, in a sense, all poetry is positional: to try to express one’s position in regard to the universe embraced by consciousness, is an immemorial urge. Tentacles, not wings, are Apollo’s natural members. Vivian Bloodmark, a philosophical friend of mine, in later years, used to say that while the scientist sees everything that happens in one point of space, the poet feels everything that happens in one point of time.”

“I feel the only thing you can do about life is to preserve it, by art if you’re an artist, by children if you’re not.”

“we want it visible to showwhen even the most visible joy will reveal itselfonly when we have transformed it within.there’s nowhere, my love, the world can existexpect within.”

“I do not write to you, but of you,/because the paper that we write on/is our perishable skin.”

“I wait on my fix:I am a poetry junkie.”