. . . the reason life works at all is that not everyone in your tribe is nuts on the same day. [pp. 65-66]
One must live to build one's house, and not build one's house to live in.
Love is never finished expressing itself, and it expresses itself better the more poetically it is dreamed.
The reverie we intend to study is poetic reverie. This is a reverie which poetry puts on the right track, the track an expanding consciousness follows. This reverie is written, or, at least, promises to be written. It is already facing the great universe of the blank page. Then images begin to compose and fall into place.
The human being taken in his profound reality as well as in his great tension of becoming is a divided being, a being which divides again, having permitted himself the illusion of unity for barely an instant. He divides and then reunites.
Childhood lasts all through life. It returns to animate broad sections of adult life. . . . Poets will help us to find this living childhood within us, this permanent, durable immobile world.
A word is a bud attempting to become a twig. How can one not dream while writing? It is the pen which dreams. The blank page gives the right to dream.
Remember that failure is an event, not a person.
Hurdling is like Kung-fu. Everyone comes from a different school. And everybody says 'my Kung-fu is better than your Kung-fu. ' You have to find the technique that best fits your body size.
Music is beautiful. Yes, music is great. My music's great.
The members of the legislative department. . . are numerous. They are distributed and dwell among the people at large. Their connections of blood, of friendship, and of acquaintance embrace a great proportion of the most influential part of the society. . . they are more immediately the confidential guardians of their rights and liberties.