In this life, anything can happen - and what can help bring it to pass is Hope
One critic wrote. . . that my poems sounded as though they had been translated from the Hungarian. I don't know why, but somehow that made me feel quite lighthearted.
The universe is a continuous web. Touch it at any point and the whole web quivers.
I can hardly wait for tomorrow, it means a new life for me each and every day.
When you look back on a lifetime and think of what has been given to the world by your presence, your fugitive presence, inevitably you think of your art, whatever it may be, as the gift you have made to the world in acknowledgment of the gift you have been given, which is the life itself. . . That work is not an expression of the desire for praise or recognition, or prizes, but the deepest manifestation of your gratitiude for the gift of life.
Be what you are. Give What is yours to give. Have Style. Dare.
The poem comes in the form of a blessing, like rapture breaking on the mind.
The soundest strategy in war is to postpone operations until the moral disintegration of the enemy renders the delivery of the mortal blow both possible and easy.
Growing up as a kid, we moved all over the country on a fairly frequent basis, from New Jersey to Texas, California, Illinois. . . we moved 21 times in my first 17 years.
It is no secret that the moon has no light of her own, but is, as it were, a mirror, receiving brightness from the influence of the sun.
I found myself in the changed man theory the other night thinking, "Yeah. " I thought, "My god. If we could do this again," but there was nothing specific there. There's just the kind of vague sensation of how I'd like it to go. I allowed myself that gift to think that.