All my life I have been trying to learn to read, to see and hear, and to write.

Poetry is a section of river-fog and moving boat-lights, delivered between bridges and whistles, so one says, 'Oh!' and another, 'How?'

I wrote poems in my corner of the Brooks Street station. I sent them to two editors who rejected them right off. I read those letters of rejection years later and I agreed with those editors.

It is necessary now and then for a man to go away by himself and experience loneliness; to sit on a rock in the forest and to ask of himself, 'Who am I, and where have I been, and where am I going?'...If one is not careful, one allows diversions to take up one's time-the stuff of life

We read Robert Browning's poetry. Here we needed no guidance from the professor: the poems themselves were enough.

Poetry is a sky dark with a wild-duck migration.

You remember some bedrooms you have slept in. There are bedrooms you like to remember and others you would like to forget.