Nothing you write is ever lost to you. At some other level your mind is working on it.
Fame means millions of people have the wrong idea of who you are.
Poems, like dreams, are a sort of royal road to the unconscious. They tell you what your secret self cannot express.
Sometimes it was worth all the disadvantages of marriage just to have that: one friend in an indifferent world.
Spring, / you are a pinking shears: you cut / fresh edges on the world.
What I would like to give my daughter is freedom. And this is something that must be given by example, not by exhortation.