As the saying goes, I want to be the best-looking corpse there is.
Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota
Suddenly I realize That if I stepped out of my body I would break Into blossom.
Poetry can keep life itself alive. You can endure almost anything as long as you can sing about it.
It goes without saying that a fine short poem can have the resonance and depth of an entire novel.
There is this cave In the air behind my body That nobody is going to touch: A cloister, a silence Closing around a blossom of fire. When I stand upright in the wind, My bones turn to dark emeralds.
I close my eyes, and think of water.
The solution to your problem is to see who has it.
Everybody wants to rule the world.
The Clash, in particular, transcends any category.
On a horse there is a perfect position of balance where he doesn't feel like he's pushing you along with him or dragging you along with him. It's like two converging currents in a river, where those currents converge, there is a point where there is no movement, no energy; and that's what you're thinking when you're on the back of a horse.