Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler,long I stood And looked down one as far as I could;To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Understand that the right to choose your own path is a sacred privilege. Use it. Dwell in possibility.

The middle of the road is where the white line is - and that's the worst place to drive.

If my poetry aims to achieve anything, it's to deliver people from the limited ways in which they see and feel.

The thing the sixties did was to show us the possibilities and the responsibility that we all had. It wasn't the answer. It just gave us a glimpse of the possibility.

Poetry is what is lost in translation. It is also what is lost in interpretation.