I dreamed that you bewitched me into bedAnd sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I lean to you, numb as a fossil. Tell me I'm here.

I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me.

The night sky is only a sort of carbon paper, Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of starsLetting in the light, peephole after peephole--- A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things.

Not easy to state the change you made.If I'm alive now, I was dead, Though, like a stone, unbothered by it.

I am your opus.

Wind warns November’s done with. The blown leaves make bat-shapes, Web-winged and furious.

The death of a billionaire is worth more to the media than the lives of a billion poor people.

And life goes on like this, an uncomplete poem.

Shame is always easier to handle if you have someone to share it with.

Never act like you want it, darlin'. Act like you wouldn't own it if they paid you. Tell them it's dirty, broken...a useless thing. Then make an offer.

I spend a year at the Hoover Institute at Stanford, researching market approaches to air pollution control.

As long as you're a tax deduction, you'll always be safe in my house.

Fasting is truly a secret source of power.

Suffer all, and conquer all.

He who cannot look over a battlefield with a dry eye, causes the death of many men uselessly.

There is no reason for amazement: surely one always knew that cultures decay, and life's end is death.