I am not at all clear what free verse is anymore. That's one of the things you learn not to know.

Shakespeare tells the same stories over and over in so many guises that it takes a long time before you notice.

Religion and science both profess peace (and the sincerity of the professors is not being doubted), but each always turns out to have a dominant part in any war that is going or contemplated.

Occasionally a student writer comes up with something really beautiful and moving, and you won't know for years if it was an accident or the first burst of something wonderful.

The only way out is the way through, just as you cannot escape death except by dying. Being unable to write, you must examine in writing this being unable, which becomes for the present -henceforth?- the subject to which you are condemned.

Nothing in the universe can travel at the speed of light, they say, forgetful of the shadow's speed.

We think about sex obsessively except during the act, when our minds tend to wander.