Poetry is an enumeration of birds, bees, babies, butterflies, bugs, bambinos, babayagas, and bipeds, beating their way up bewildering bastions.

Man is a long time coming. Man will yet win. Brother may yet line up with brother: This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.There are men who can't be bought.

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.

Poetry is a diary kept by a sea creature who lives on land and wishes he could fly.

The greatest cunning is to have none at all.

The impact of television on our culture is just indescribable.

I have become infected, now that I see how beautifully a book is coming out of all this.