“Those roads provided breath-taking views. There's something special about an empty road going on and on and on to the horizon where the sun burns the world away into a dancing, shmmering heat haze that reflects the crystal blue sky, literally blurring the line between heaven and earth.”

“Beyond the East the sunrise, beyond the West the sea,And East and West the wanderlust that will not let me be;It works in me like madness, dear, to bid me say good-by!For the seas call and the stars call, and oh, the call of the sky!I know not where the white road runs, nor what the blue hills are,But man can have the sun for friend, and for his guide a star;And there's no end of voyaging when once the voice is heard,For the river calls and the road calls, and oh, the call of a bird!Yonder the long horizon lies, and there by night and dayThe old ships draw to home again, the young ships sail away;And come I may, but go I must, and if men ask you why,You may put the blame on the stars and the sun and the white road and the sky!”

“There's the road to heaven, and there's the road to hell, and there? That's the road to Faerie.”

“When people talk about poetry as a project, they suggest that the road through a poem is a single line. When really the road through a poem is a series of lines, like a constellation, all interconnected. Poems take place in the realm of chance, where the self and the universal combine, where life exist. I can’t suggest to you that going through a line that is more like a constellation than a road is easy—or that the blurring of the self and the universal doesn’t shred a poet a little bit in the process. The terrain of a poem is unmapped (including the shapes of the trees along the constellation-road). A great poet knows never to expect sun or rain or cold or wind in the process of creating a poem. In a great poem all can come to the fore at once. It would be worse yet, if none are there at all.”

“The fight is won or lost far away from the witnesses, behind the lines, in the gym, and out there on the road; long before I dance under those lights.”

“Just as a white summer cloud, in harmony with heaven and earth freely floats in the blue sky from horizon to horizon following the breath of the atmosphere – in the same way the pilgrim abandons himself to the breath of the greater life that… leads him beyond the farthest horizons to an aim which is already present within him, though yet hidden from his sight.”