Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home. It is no season in which to wander the world as if one were the wind blowing aimlessly along the streets without a place to rest, without food, and without time meaning anything to one, just as time means nothing to the wind.

Rhythm is one of the principal translators between dream and reality. Rhythm might be described as, to the world of sound, what light is to the world of sight. It shapes and gives new meaning. Rhythm was described by Schopenhauer as melody deprived of its pitch.

If certain critics and poetasters had their way, 'Ordinary Piety' and its child, Dullness, would be the masters of poetry.

the arts are life accelerated and concentrated.

Hot water is my native element. I was in it as a baby, and I have never seemed to get out of it ever since.

My poems are hymns of praise to the glory of life.

Virginia Woolf's writing is no more than glamorous knitting. I believe she must have a pattern somewhere.