“Howl” by Allen Ginsberg
“Persimmons” by Li-Young Lee
“Black Snake” by Mary Oliver
The art of writing is the art of discovering what you believe.
In the midst of our happiness we were very pleased.
Writing is easy. All you have to do is cross out the wrong words.
There is only one plot: Things are not what they seem.
I like restraint—if doesn’t go too far.
The art of running the mile consists, in essence, of reaching the threshold of consciousness at the instant of breasting the tape.
Let’s play two.
A work of art is never completed, merely abandoned.
Poetry is a dream dreamed in the presence of reason.
How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are?
Keep your eye clear and hit ’em where they ain’t.
Poetry begins where certitude ends.
For me the initial delight is in the surprise of remembering something I didn’t know I already knew.