There’s No Preparation For Poetry.

There Are People Who Live Inside Their Heads And Their Intellects. It's Something One Is Born With And Stuck With. It's Not Something You Make A Decision About.

Silence Is The Only Language God Speaks.

One Writes Because One Has Been Touched By The Yearning For And The Despair Of Ever Touching The Other.

I Was Already Dozing Off In The Shade, Dreaming That The Rustling Trees Were My Many Selves Explaining Themselves All At The Same Time So That I Could Not Make Out A Single Word. My Life Was A Beautiful Mystery On The Verge Of Understanding, Always On The Verge! Think Of It!

There’s No Preparation For Poetry.