“A Sonnet is amoment'smonument,—Memorial from theSoul's eternityTo one deaddeathless hour.”

“And still it is not enough to have memories. One must be able to forget them when they are many, and one must have the great patience to wait until they come again. For it is not yet the memories themselves. Not until they have turned to blood within us, to glance, to gesture, nameless and no longer to be distinguished from ourselves - not until then can it happen that in a most rare hour the first word of a verse arises in their midst and goes forth from them.”

“When we lose one we love, our bitterest tears are called forth by the memory of hours when we loved not enough.”

“In the poetry of arrival, the garage door is free verse; the front door can be anything from a rhyming couplet to a sonnet.”

“An hour spent reading is one stolen from paradise.”

“If I open this envelope fifty years from now, I will be again as I am now and there will be no being old for me. There's a long, long time yet before fifty years...millions of hours of time. But one hour has gone already since I sat here...one hour less to live...one hour gone away from all the hours of my life.”