A poem is this:/A nuance of sound/delicately operating/upon a cataract of sense/...the particulars/of a song waking/upon a bed of sound.

It is difficult to get the news from poems, yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there.

The beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

It is not what you say that matters but the manner in which you say it; there lies the secret of the ages.

The job of the poet is to use language effectively, his own language, the only language which is to him authentic.

The weight of love Has buoyed me up Till my head Knocks against the sky.

As birds' wings beat the solid air without which none could fly so words freed by the imagination affirm reality by their flight.

It is not fair to be old, to put on a brown sweater.

There is nothing beginning nor end to the imagination but it delights in its own seasons reversing the usual order at will.

My first poem was a bolt from the blue … it broke a spell of disillusion and suicidal despondence. ... it filled me with soul satisfying joy.

Somewhere the sense makes copper roses steel roses — The rose carried weight of love but love is at an end — of roses It is at the edge of the petal that love waits.

The purpose is to get across change horses mid-stream if necessary.

Information and complexity go hand in hand.

My fascination with letting images repeat and repeat or in film's case 'run on' manifests my belief that we spend much of our lives seeing without observing.

Despite the best of efforts, many foster children are neither reunited with their families, nor adopted.

The man who has a girl in every port is not a sailor but a wholesaler.

Computer science is the most misunderstood field there is. You are being paid to solve puzzles. For a person who has practiced meditation in past lives, that is the way your mind works.

If you must commit suicide ... always contrive to do it as decorously as possible; the decencies, whether of life or of death, should never be lost sight of.

A wife is to submit graciously to the servant leadership of her husband even as the church willingly submits to the headship of Christ.

He sleeps well who knows not that he sleeps ill.

By logic and reason we die hourly; by imagination we live.