To me Art (poetry) is a continuous and continuing process and that when a man fails to write good poetry he fails to live fully or well.

Hell, I'd even failed with women. Three wives. Nothing really wrong each time. It all got destroyed by petty bickering. Railing about nothing. Getting pissed-off over anything and everything. Day by day, year by year, grinding. Instead of helping each other you just sliced away, picked at this or that. Goading. Endless goading. It became a cheap contest. And once you got into it, it became habitual. You couldn't seem to get out. You almost didn't want to get out. And then you did get out. All the way.

I don't remember going to bed, but in the morning, there I was.

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

mercy, I think, doesn't the human race know anything about mercy?

I can never drive my car over a bridge without thinking of suicide. I can never look at a lake or an ocean without thinking of suicide.

I am aware that a computer can’t create a poem, but neither can a typewriter.