There is this tendency to think that if you could only find the magic way, then you could become a poet. "Tell me how to become a poet. Tell me what to do." . . . What makes you a poet is a gift for language, an ability to see into the heart of things, and an ability to deal with important unconscious material. When all these things come together, you're a poet. But there isn't one little gimmick that makes you a poet. There isn't any formula for it.

How could one create life with someone who represented death?

As a seasoned insomniac, I knew sometimes the way to beat sleeplessness was to outwit it: to pretend you didn't care about sleeping. Then sometimes sleep became piqued, like a rejected lover, and crept up to try to seduce you.

Sex has the unparalleled power to make us absurd to ourselves. It also has the power to make us understand transcendence.

I know some good marriages-marriages where both people are just trying to get through their days by helping each other, being good to each other.

You should write first drafts as if they will never be shown to anyone.

I am old enough to know that laughter, not anger, is the true revelation.