Our disappointment sits between us.

so it's always a process of letting go, one way or another

there was something about that city, though it didn't let me feel guilty that I had no feeling for the things so many others needed. it let me alone.

young or old, good or bad, I don't think anything dies as slow and as hard as a writer.

I am a dolt of a man, easily made happy or even stupidly happy almost without cause and left alone I am mostly content.

I've never met another man I'd rather be.

Bad luck for the young poet would be a rich father, an early marriage, an early success or the ability to do anything well.