I had the feeling . . . that my experience was very different from other people’s. (Are we all under this illusion?)

What a commentary on our civilization, when being alone is considered suspect; when one has to apologize for it, make excuses, hide the fact that one practices it—like a secret vice!

We seem so frightened today of being alone that we never let it happen. Even if family, friends, and movies should fail, there is still the radio or televsion to fill up the void... We can do our housework with soap-opera heroes at our side... Now instead of planting our solitude with our own dream blossoms, we choke the space with continuous music, chatter, and companionship to which we do not even listen. It is simply there to fill the vacuum. When the noise stops there is no inner music to take its place. We must re-learn to be alone.

No new sect ever had humor; no disciples either, even the disciples of Christ.

When I cannot write a poem, I bake biscuits and feel just as pleased.

Can you write a book and have children at the same time? Yes, if you're content to do it very very slowly.

The nicest gifts are those left, nameless and quiet, unburdened with love, or vanity, or the desire for attention.