“And if I say this is a wonderful poem, Is that exaggeration?”

She had blue skin. And so did he. He kept it hid, And so did she. They searched for blue their whole life through, Then passed right by – And never knew.

Comfortable shoes and the freedom to leave are the two most important things in life.

Listen to the mustn’ts, child. Listen to the don’ts. Listen to the shouldn’t, the impossibles, the won’ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me, Anything can happen, child. Anything can be.

If there is a book you want to read but isn`t written yet, write it.

And the tree was happy.

It’s all the same to the clam.

Whatever you are is all okay. I don’t like you anyway.

Once I spoke the language of the flowers, Once I understand each word the caterpillar said, Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings.

When the light turns green, you go. When the light turns red, you stop. But what do you do when the light turns blue with orange and lavender spots?

But all the magic I have known I’ve had to make it myself.

And she loved a boy very, very much- even more than she loved herself.

There is a place where the sidewalk ends.

And he didn’t really know where he was going, but he did know he was going somewhere because you really have to go somewhere, don’t you?

And the boy loved the tree, very much. And the tree was happy.

If the track is tough and the hill is rough, thinking you can just ain’t enough.

I keep meeting all the right people at all the wrong places.

Anything I can sing, I call a song. Anything I can’t sing, I call a poem.

I stand with Charlie Hebdo, as we all must, to defend the art of satire.

After healing I’ll run back to her – of course this poem demands a brutal ending!

I used to write poems more when I was younger, but I haven’t in a long time. I just write ideas and paragraphs and go from there.

A good joke will sell quicker than a good poem, and, measured in sweat and blood, will bring better remuneration.

I thought I’d begin by reading a poem by Shakespeare, but then I thought, why should I? He never reads any of mine.

Trying to reason with the poem is precisely how you lose it.

In you are poems that aren’t meant to be read by everyone.