“For I have known them all already, known them all—Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.”

The visible reminder of Invisible Light.

We don’t actually fear death, we fear that no one will notice our absence, that we will disappear without a trace.

People to whom nothing has ever happened cannot understand the unimportance of events.

We do not pass through the same door twice Or return to the door through which we did not pass.

Success is relative. It is what we make of the mess we have made of things.

Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea.

Anxiety is the handmaiden of creativity

Books. Cats. Life is good.

There is no feeling, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music.

In my end is my beginning.

Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.

Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?

Where does one go from a world of insanity? Somewhere on the other side of despair.

Sometimes things become possible if we want them bad enough.

Humor is also a way of saying something serious.

There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet

One thing you don’t want to do as a host is be running around all evening. Do as much as you can ahead of time, so all you have to do is grill the main ingredients.

Why let one high C ruin your whole evening?

I have to re-create the universe every morning when I wake up, and kill it in the evening.

A sound-bite culture can’t discuss science very well. Exactly what we’re losing when we reduce biodiversity, the causes and consequences of global warming-these traumas can’t be adequately summarized in an evening news wrap-up.

I have something to tell you non-smokers that I know for a fact that you don’t know, and I feel it’s my duty to pass on information at all times. Ready?. . . . Non-smokers die every day . . .

When evening quickens in the street, comes a pause in the day’s occupation that is known as the cocktail hour.

Ordnance Survey maps, tea and crumpets, summer showers and foggy winter evenings – every bit of it.

Enjoy your evening. See, I know that you entertain this eternal life fantasy because you’ve chosen not to smoke, but let me be the 1st to POP that bubble and bring you hurling back to reality . . . You’re dead too.