I have written some poetry that I don't understand myself.

Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo. Shovel them under and let me work- I am the grass; I cover all. And pile them high at Gettysburg. And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun. Shovel them under and let me work. Two years, ten years,and passengers ask the conductor- What place is this? Where are we now? I am the grass. Let me work.

A book is never a masterpiece: it becomes one. Genius is the talent of a dead man.

I decided I would go to Chicago and try my luck as a writer after those eight months as a fireman.

Poetry is a mock of a cry at finding a million dollars and a mock of a laugh at losing it.

I stayed away from mathematics not so much because I knew it would be hard work as because of the amount of time I knew it would take, hours spent in a field where I was not a natural.

There is a warning love sends and the cost of it is never written till long afterward.