“Love is the only engine of survival.”

And everything depends upon how near you sleep to me.

Stunned and still not suffering. Swollen with care and anxiety and still not suffering. Useless, old, and full of grief, but still not suffering.

He can love the shape of human beings, the fine and twisted shapes of the heart. It is good to have among us such men, such balancing monsters of love.

I’m old and the mirrors don’t lie.

I don’t even hate books anymore.

The older I get, the surer I am that I’m not running the show.

When passion dies friendship hovers round our flesh like flies.

There is a crack in everything.

The last refuge of the insomniac is a sense of superiority to the sleeping world.

Poetry is a verdict, not an occupation.

We are so lightly here. It is in love that we are made. In love we disappear.

You wanted to be the Superman who was never Clark Kent.

Ordinary eternal machinery, like the grinding of the stars.

A young nurse is standing close behind me wondering whether she is being drawn by my power or her charity.

After a while, if you are sufficiently bored or unemployed, you may want to read it from cover to cover.

A kite is a victim you are sure of. You love it because it pulls.

Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire.

I so desperately want my words to be indicative of how deeply and completely I love my people.

Your lines, I maintain it, are poetry, and good poetry. Friendship had I been so blest as to have met with you in time, might have led me – God of love only knows where.

I say nothing to him I love him.

Missing you is the cruelest thing I could do to my heart, and maybe that’s why I do it: its easier to hurt myself than love myself.

Great love isn’t two people finding the perfect match in one another. Great love is two people making the choice to be a match.

God’s love for us is not the reason for which we should love him. God’s love for us is the reason for us to love ourselves.

Only when I was singing did I feel loved.