Poetry is the harnessing of the paradox of earth cradling life and then entombing it.

Yesterday and tomorrow cross and mix on the skyline. The two are lost in a purple haze. One forgets, one waits.

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

The machine yes the machine never wastes anybody's time never watches the foreman never talks back.

I doubt if you can have a truly wild party without liquor.

I couldn't see myself filling some definite niche in what is called a career. This was all misty.

There was always the consolation that if I didn't like what I wrote I could throw it away or burn it.