United States writer and poet (1932-1963)

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I talk to God, but the sky is empty.
I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in all directions myself, like the colored arrows from a Fourth of July rocket.
Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.
There must be quite a few things a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them.
What did my hands do before they held you?

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