Poetry ... ... a place for the genuine, Hands that can grasp, eyes that can dilate, hair that can rise

As for butterflies, I can hardly conceive of one's attending upon you; but to question the congruence of the complement is vain, if it exists.

Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads.

Your thorns are the best part of you.

Any writer overwhelmingly honest about pleasing himself is almost sure to please others.

Originality is... a by-product of sincerity.

Camels are snobbish and sheep, unintelligent; water buffaloes, neurasthenic-- even murderous. Reindeer seem over-serious.

Omissions are not accidents.

The hands are the heart's messengers.

The passion for setting people right is in itself an afflictive disease.

When one cannot appraise out of one's own experience, the temptation to blunder is minimized, but even when one can, appraisal seems chiefly useful as appraisal of the appraiser.

The temptation shared by all forms of intelligence: cynicism.

A man who's powerful and strong yet is able to show tenderness and vulnerability, that's really sexy.

Those who do not study are only cattle dressed up in men's clothes.

Any outfit that can't figure out clean toilets and decent theming on its own can't benefit from my advice.

I have a burning desire to see what things look like photographed by me.

You don't know what it's like! Hyperactive twins! When they turned three, my doctor prescribed Ritalin -- I wouldn't dream of giving a drug to my children, but it does help when I take it myself.

My design has always been a derivative of people I meet. I want to translate who they are and their personality into a room.

There is no excuse for anyone not to train three times a week...Anyone can change their mind if they want to. It's all about motivation

I believe sustainable use is the greatest propaganda in wildlife conservation at the moment.

To become a lapsed Catholic, first go to a Catholic university.