I write poetry to figure things out. Any time I’m trying to wrap my head around something, poetry is like a puzzle-solving strategy for me.

Because there's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away.

This world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.

If I should have a daughter, instead of "Mom," she's going to call me "Point B," because that way she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me.

It does not matter how strong your gravity is, we were always meant to fly.

Most days it feels as if the world is whirling around me and I am standing still. In slow motion, I watch the colors blur; people and faces all become a massive wash.

Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things and always apologize when you've done something wrong but don't you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining.

There are parts of me I only recognize from photographs.

Not all poetry wants to be storytelling. And not all storytelling wants to be poetry. But great storytellers and great poets share something in common: They had something to say, and did.

Forgive yourself for the decisions you have made, the ones you still call mistakes when you tuck them in at night.

You can only fit so many words in a postcard, only so many in a phone call, only so many into space before you forget that words are sometimes used for things other than filling emptiness.

Free elections don't always result in fair elections.

To live your life afraid of others and deny them a chance to come close is to not live at all.

Traditional doctors say I'm a mystic. I don't deny it.

If you're walking down the street in L.A., people do sort of look at you like you're a hooker because it's so rare to see someone just walking.

I made up my mind, but I made it up both ways.

Family and the natural surroundings played a big role in shaping my values.

If you had a good radio - and everybody did in those days - you could find it.

I saw my Lord with the Eye of my heart, and I said: "Who are you?" He answered: "You!"

Speech sounds cannot be understood, delimited, classified and explained except in the light of the tasks which they perform in language.

I have seen the hippopotamus, both asleep and awake; and I can assure you that, awake or asleep, he is the ugliest of the works of God.