I seldom know what I'm going to write when I sit down. There isn't much agony and sweat of the human spirit involved in doing it. The writing's easy, it's the living that is sometimes difficult.

The park grass looked greener, the park benches looked better and the flowers were trying harder.

I heard an airplane passing overhead. I wished I was on it.

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

we sat there smoking cigarettes at 5 in the morning.

Love is a fog that burns with the first daylight of reality.

What were you going to do tonight?" "I was going to listen to the songs of Rachmaninoff." "Who's that?" "A dead Russian.