He's the type of man who will end up dying in his own arms.
The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Being a poet is one of the unhealthier jobs--no regular hours, so many temptations!
All my life I have lived and behaved very much like the sandpiper - just running down the edges of different countries and continents, 'looking for something'.
If after I read a poem the world looks like that poem for 24 hours or so I'm sure it's a good one—and the same goes for paintings.
Democracy in the contemporary world demands, among other things, an educated and informed people.
Close, close all night the lovers keep. They turn together in their sleep, Close as two pages in a book that read each other in the dark. Each knows all the other knows, learned by heart from head to toes.
Everywhere I go, people love me, so I'm just blessed. Do you blame them?
This is our world. Aye, there's more than enough of darkness in it. But over everything there's all this joy, Kit. There's all this lovely, lovely light.
I do believe we're all adaptable, and you're probably more adaptable than you realize.
When the Ngdanga tribe of West Africa hold their moon love ceremonies, the men of the tribe bang their heads on sacred trees until they get a nose bleed, which usually cures them of that.