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"Already old, the question Who shall die? Becomes unspoken Who is innocent?"
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"In our heads we're all about 33 years old."
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"I put a Phrygian cap on the old dictionary."
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"The Ancient Mariner would not have taken so well if it had been called The Old Sailor."
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"It is only the modern that ever becomes old-fashioned."
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"The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the Graces, but an old, mouldering house, full of gloom and haunted by ghosts."
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"You can always tell an old soldier by the inside of his holsters and cartridge boxes. The young ones carry pistols and cartridges; the old ones, grub."
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"Flea and Anthony are into funk, like old school Meters and stuff like that."
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"Already old, the question Who shall die? Becomes unspoken Who is innocent?"
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"To be seventy years young is sometimes far more cheerful and hopeful than to be forty years old."
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"The old charters of Massachusetts, Virginia, and the Carolinas had given title to strips of territory extending from the Atlantic westward to the Pacific."
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"Already old, the question Who shall die? Becomes unspoken Who is innocent?"
Old
"Poetry is innocent, not wise. It does not learn from experience, because each poetic experience is unique."
Experience
"The doctor punched my vein, the captain called me Cain, upon my belly sat the sow of fear."
Fear
"The body, what is it, Father, but a sign To love the force that grows us, to give back What in Thy palm is senselessness and mud?"
Love
"Laughter and grief join hands. Always the heart Clumps in the breast with heavy stride; The face grows lined and wrinkled like a chart, The eyes bloodshot with tears and tide. Let the wind blow, for many a man shall die."
Heart
"My soul is now her day, my day her night, So I lie down, and so I rise."
Lie
"To make the child in your own image is a capital crime, for your image is not worth repeating. The child knows this and you know it. Consequently you hate each other."
Crime
"Lastly, his tomb shall list and founder in the troughs of grass. And none shall speak his name."
Poetry
"The good poet sticks to his real loves, those within the realm of possibility. He never tries to hold hands with God or the human race."
God
"But with exquisite breathing you smile, with satisfaction of love, And I touch you again as you tick in the silence and settle in sleep."
Love
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