All poetry is an ordered voice, one which tries to tell you about a vision in the un-visionary language of farm, city, and love.

Poetry is ordinary language raised to the Nth power. Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words.

A barn with cattle and horses is the place to begin Christmas; after all, that's where the original event happened, and that same smell was the first air that the Christ Child breathed.

The sharpest memory of our old-fashioned Christmas eve is my mother's hand making sure I was settled in bed.

Wisdom is knowing when you can't be wise.

Poetry is ordinary language raised to the Nth power.

Verse is not written, it is bled; Out of the poet's abstract head. Words drip the poem on the page; Out of his grief, delight and rage.

Other families bought automobiles; we had a horse-headed hitching post in front of our house and drove horses.

I grew up in the prolonged survival of the great age of the horse, with harness and saddle and sleigh bells and horse pictures, not as antiques but the facts of our lives.

Without vision you don't see, and without practicality the bills don't get paid.

Writing is rewriting what you have rewritten.

I'm raw power & energy. And my wife is like the only scientist who can harness and direct it properly. I always thank Jah for her. (Proverbs 31:10)

Luce blushed. "Then what kind of angel are you?""I'm sort of in between gigs right now, " Daniel said.

Today or any day that phone may ring and bring good news.

Newton did not know what happened to the apple, and I can prove this when the next eclipse comes.

In the digital age we're in now, with satellite radio and Pandora and stuff like that, it's not about, "I listen to this kind of music." It's about, "I listen to good music and bad music."

Rule number one is, make sure that you face the person with hearing loss when you are speaking to them.

My father, Charles Seeger, got me into the Communist movement. He backed out around '38. I drifted out in the 50's.

My father always told me to wisen up, son. Cause if you hung with nine broke friends, you're bound to be the tenth one.

For the sensory thinker, the world of the mind bears a direct physical resemblance to the world outside.

Maggie, we're through with lies and liars in this house. Lock the door.