In the morning it was morning and I was still alive.

When I begin to doubt my ability to work the word, I simply read another writer and know I have nothing to worry about. My contest is only with myself, to do it right, with power, and force, and delight, and gamble.

I would be married, but I'd have no wife, I would be married to a single life.

Human relationships are strange. I mean, you are with one person a while, eating and sleeping and living with them, loving them, talking to them, going places together, and then it stops.

Poetry is what happens when nothing else can.

I will put on my shoes and shirt and get out of here - it'll be better for all of us.

If it doesn't come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don’t do it.