There’s No Preparation For Poetry.

Only Poetry Can Measure The Distance Between Ourselves And The Other.

There Are People Who Live Inside Their Heads And Their Intellects. It's Something One Is Born With And Stuck With. It's Not Something You Make A Decision About.

A 'truth' Detached And Purified Of Pleasures Of Ordinary Life Is Not Worth A Damn In My View. Every Grand Theory And Noble Sentiment Ought To Be First Tested In The Kitchen-and Then In Bed, Of Course.

I Left Parts Of Myself Everywhere, The Way Absent-minded People Leave Gloves And Umbrellas Whose Colors Are Sad From Dispensing So Much Bad Luck

One Writes Because One Has Been Touched By The Yearning For And The Despair Of Ever Touching The Other.