My book should smell of pines and resound with the hum of insects.
Open the book. (The gilt rubs off the edges of the pages and pollinates the fingertips.)
It is not true that we have only one life to live; if we can read, we can live as many more lives and as many kinds of lives as we wish.
A book must be the ax for the frozen sea within us.
Writing a book of poetry is like dropping a rose petal down the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo.