She's a rare vase, out of a cat's reach, on its shelf.

For every poet it is always morning in the world; history a forgotten, insomniac night. The fate of poetry is to fall in love with the world in spite of history.

Break a vase, and the love that reassembles the fragments is stronger than that love which took its symmetry for granted when it was whole.

Summer for prose and lemons, for nakedness and languor.

Good science and good art are always about a condition of awe. I don't think there is any other function for the poet or the scientist in the human tribe but the astonishment of the soul.

The English language is nobody's special property. It is the property of the imagination: it is the property of the language itself.

The sigh of History rises over ruins, not over landscapes, and in the Antilles there are few ruins to sigh over, apart from the ruins of sugar estates and abandoned forts.

The future happens. No matter how much we scream.

Memory that yearns to join the centre, a limb remembering the body from which it has been severed, like those bamboo thighs of the god.

The time will come when, with elation, you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror, and each will smile at the other’s welcome.

If you know what you are going to write when you're writing a poem, it's going to be average.

Always put your heart into and show commitment in whatever you do

Let your dreams fly in the sky of imagination.

I find my relationships at 40-plus are really emulsified, juicy relationships because you have more of a sense of who you are and who you want to be around.

If studies on lab rats are any indication, human beings have a deep-seated fear of a big, scary cat being let into their cage.

I'm not clumsy; just accident prone.

This company looks cheap, that company looks cheap, but the overall economy could completely screw it up. The key is to wait. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to do nothing.

When values are contrasting, use subtle color. When values are subtle, use contrasting color.

Why should not a poet's cat be winged as well as his horse?

You only live once, life is really short.. don't let anything minuscule like that keep you down. Keep your head up.

[History is] a tyranny over the souls of the dead - and so the imagination of the living.