They had, finally, the only thing anyone really wants in life: someone to hold your hand when you die.
In the increasingly convincing darkness The words become palpable, like a fruit That is too beautiful to eat.
Poetry comes to me out of thin air or out of my unconscious mind. It's sort of the way dreams come to us and the way that we get knowledge from them, through television, old movies, which I watch a lot of. Lines of dialogue suddenly seem to be part of a poem.
The soul is not a soul, Has no secret, is small, and it fits Its hollow perfectly: its room, our moment of attention.
I always thought that writing poetry was in itself a political act.
And we may be led, then, upward through more Powerful forms of poetry, past columns With peeling posters on them, to the country of indifference. Meanwhile if the swell diapasons, blooms Unhappily and too soon, the little people are nonetheless real.
I feel that poetry is going on all the time inside, an underground stream.
It's the Twentieth Century. . . no more miracles.
No. I can quite happily say someone is handsome, good-looking, and I can see why someone would want to f**k them, but I've never felt that way about a man myself. There is that moment in your late teens when you ask yourself the question, 'Am I?' but I wasn'tWell, this year I have a talent crush on Ryan Gosling. I think he's fantastic and(ahem) you know he'd be nice afterwards. He seems smart. If I was gay, I would go for a smart man.
I've always done a lot of research and stuff around the songs that I write so there are pages and pages of writing and you can kind of see these songs emerging.
I began this book with the intention of concealing nothing, that those who liked might have the benefit of perusing a fellow creature's heart: but we have some thoughts that all the angels in heaven are welcome to behold -- but not our brother-men -- not even the best and kindest amongst them.