“How far is one to go to elude nothing? Is one to die voluntarily or to hope in spite of everything?”

“Everything Is Going to Be All Right How should I not be glad to contemplate the clouds clearing beyond the dormer window and a high tide reflected on the ceiling? There will be dying, there will be dying, but there is no need to go into that. The poems flow from the hand unbidden and the hidden source is the watchful heart. The sun rises in spite of everything and the far cities are beautiful and bright. I lie here in a riot of sunlight watching the day break and the clouds flying. Everything is going to be all right.”

“The heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves until one day there are none. No hopes. Nothing remains.”

“How far back does one's memory of someone go?”

“Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.”

“How far would you go to keep the hope of love alive?”