all ignorance toboggans into know and trudges up to ignorance again.
If a poet is anybody, he is somebody to whom things made matter very little - somebody who is obsessed by Making.
Listen; there's a hell of a good universe next door: let's go.
I like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more.
I imagine that yes is the only living thing.
Kisses are a better fate than wisdom.
