And the last thought he had that morning as he closed his eyes was: I hope the tornado hit the moose.

Patience, he thought. So much of this was patience - waiting, and thinking and doing things right. So much of all this, so much of all living was patience and thinking.

A blind lover, don't knowwhat I love till I write it out

Religion is like drugs, it destroys the thinking mind.

It's easy to be a saint when all you've known is the good.

How do you feel?"Her pupils were dilated, her cheeks flushed. "Like I want you to kiss me again."And _that_ was the invitation he'd been waiting for.

We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable. So did the divine right of kings.

There are distinct duties of a poet laureate. I plan a reading series at the Library of Congress and advise the librarian. The rest is how I want to promote poetry.

I don't write songs about a specific, elusive thing. I write about love, and everyone knows what it is like to have your heart broken.

It's time for people in business to take steps to recharge the workplace.

I say no words... I can't speak with him. I shy. He too good.

Now with the Internet, a celebrity is fair game, and it's all designed to sell advertising space.