It almost felt like the dolphin of my hearts desire playing in the ocean of my life. - on writing

A big desire is not enough to meet the expectations of lost dreams.

Faith is the poetry of our dreams action is the builder of our reality.

I told you in the course of this paper that Shakespeare had a sister but do not look for her in Sir Sidney Lees life of the poet. She died young--alas she never wrote a word. She lies buried where the omnibuses now stop opposite the Elephant and Castle. Now my belief is that this poet who never wrote a word and was buried at the crossroads still lives. She lives in you and in me and in many other women who are not here tonight for they are washing up the dishes and putting the children to bed. But she lives for great poets do not die they are continuing presences they need only the opportunity to walk among us in the flesh.

Two forces create eternity a fairy tale and a dream from the fairy tale.

When a reader enters the pages of a book of poetry he or she enters a world where dreams transform the past into knowledge made applicable to the present and where visions shape the present into extraordinary possibilities for the future.

What am I to doWhat is my destinyI have no idea not a clueFeeling lost and empty.What is my dreamWhat is my futureI beg thee to listen to meI beg thee to answer.

A hidden spark of the dream sleeps In the forest and waits In the celestial spheres of the brain.

The world cannot be translated It can only be dreamed of and touched.

We were hooked when we woke.We had arms for each other.But I yearned to resumeMy dreams of another.