Who can ever say the perfect thing to the poet about his poetry?

I read a book called The Art of Loving. A lot of things seemed clear while I was reading it but afterwards I went back to being more or less the same.

It’s just life. You can’t beat life.

They were all in their early thirties. An age at which it is sometimes hard to admit that what you are living is your life.

I never have a problem with finding material. I wait for it to turn up, and it always turns up. It’s dealing with the material I’m inundated with that poses the problem.

There were people whom you positively ached to please. If you failed with such people they would put you into a category in their minds where they could kee you and have contempt for you forever.

We say of some things that they can't be forgiven, or that we will never forgive ourselves. But we do-we do it all the time.