The More Articulate One Is,

Poetry Has A Way Of Teaching One What One Needs To Know ... If One Is Honest.

It Is Clear That We Do Not Exactly Choose Our Poems; Our Poems Choose Us.

What Is There To Do When People Die - People So Dear And Rare - But Bring Them Back By Remembering?

How Unnatural The Imposed View, Imposed By A Puritanical Ethos, That Passionate Love Belongs Only To The Young, That People Are Dead From The Neck Down By The Time They Are Forty, And That Any Deep Feeling, Any Passion After That Age, Is Either Ludicrous Or Revolting!

I Sometimes Think Men Don't 'hear' Very Well, If I Take Your Meaning To Be 'understand What Is Going On In A Person.' That's What Makes Them So Restful. Women Wear Each Other Out With Their Everlasting Touching Of The Nerve.