“I hope that one or two immortal lyrics will come out of all this tumbling around.”

“Come, drunks and drug-takers; come perverts unnerved!Receive the laurel, given, though late, on merit; to whom and wherever deserved.Parochial punks, trimmers, nice people, joiners true-blue,Get the hell out of the way of the laurel. It is deathless And it isn't for you.”

“...Unaccustomed sense of peace did not depend on...'the whim of any fallible creature, or...economic security, or the weather. I don't know where it comes from. Jung states that such serenity is always a miracle...I am so glad that the therapists of my maturity and the saints of my childhood agree on one thing.”

“You have put your two hands upon me, and your mouth,You have said my name as a prayer.Here where trees are planted by waterI have watched your eyes, cleansed from regret,And your lips, closed over all that love cannot say.”

“Goodbye, goodbye!There was so much to love, I could not love it all;I could not love it enough.”

“In the country whereto I goI shall not see the face of my friendNor her hair the color of sunburnt grasses;Together we shall not findThe land on whose hills bends the new moonIn air traversed of birds.What have I thought of love?I have said, "It is beauty and sorrow."I have thought that it would bring me lost delights, and splendorAs a wind out of old time . . .But there is only the evening here,And the sound of willowsNow and again dipping their long oval leaves in the water.-- from "Betrothed”

“Slipping in blood, by his own hand, through pride,Hamlet, Othello, Coriolanus fall.Upon his bed, however, Shakespeare die,Having endured them all.”