The young show the genetic process, the old merely die of it.

I always say that one's poetry is a solace to oneself and a nuisance to one's friends.

Balance is compromise. Of the muscles.

When anything gets freed, a zest goes round the world.

I get up and I have coffee and I speak to no man and I go to my desk.

'Ms.' is a syllable which sounds like a bumble bee is breaking wind.

Speech isn't for agony.