And yet women-good women--frightened me because they eventually wanted your soul, and what was left of mine, I wanted to keep.

Figuring the average poet starts at 16, I am 23.

And yet women-good women--frightened me because they eventually wanted your soul, and what was left of mine, I wanted to keep.

I am for the small man who has not forgotten, for the man who loves his beer and his women and his sunlight

The poet, as a rule, is a half-man - a sissy, not a real person, and he is in no shape to lead real men in matters of blood, or courage.

If you can't write the next line, well, you're dead. The past doesn't matter.

There would never be a way for me to live comfortably with people. Maybe I'd become a monk. I'd pretend to believe in God and live in a cubicle, play an organ and stay drunk on wine.