Elizabeth Bishop

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to master.

The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

What childishness is it that while there's breath of life in our bodies, we are determined to rush to see the sun the other way around?

The armored cars of dreams, contrived to let us do so many a dangerous thing.

The iceberg cuts its facets from within like jewelry from a grave.

Icebergs behoove the soul (Both being self-made from elements least visible) to see themselves: Fleshed, fair, erected, indivisible.

All my life I have lived and behaved very much like the sandpiper - just running down the edges of different countries and continents, 'looking for something'.

The pigs stuck out their little feet and snored.

The whole shadow of Man is only as big as his hat.