Crowded places, I shunned them as noises too rudeAnd fled to the silence of sweet solitude.

Critics write out of intellectual exercise, not poets. Poets write straight from the heart.

Poetry is nobody’s business except the poet’s, and everybody else can fuck off.

I don't wish to be everything to everyone, but I would like to be something to someone.

Lovers find secret placesinside this violent worldwhere they make transactions with beauty.

And so sepúlchred in such pomp dost lie,That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

Stars in the night,' he said. 'Something something something something, some delight

If our two loves be one, or, thou and I Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.

In a fieldI am the absenceof field.This isalways the case.Wherever I amI am what is missing.

Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.But you are eternity and you are the mirror.

It's important to have your private enjoyments because sometimes that's all we have.

If Galileo had said in verse that the world moved, the inquisition might have let him alone.

I build boxesand place them at your feet,to measure the distance between dreams and reality.

My words are the garment of what I shall never be Like the tucked sleeve of a one-armed boy.

Brimming. That's what it is, I want to get to a place where my sentences enact brimming.