I couldn't run a tight schedule, and if you're any good at teaching, you get sucked dry because you like your students and you're trying to help them, but you don't have any time left to write yourself.

As an English major I was familiar with the stories of dozens of writers trying to get their work done among the multifarious diversions of the world and the hurdles of their own vices. A professor had said that what saved writers is that they, like politicians, had the illusion of destiny that allowed them to overcome obstacles no matter how nominal their work.

A poet must discover that it’s his own story that is true, even if the truth is small indeed.

Some people hear their own inner voices with great clearness and they live by what they hear. Such people become crazy, or they become legends.

Naturally we would prefer seven epiphanies a day and an earth not so apparently devoid of angels.

So when I made some money, I didn't have any idea how one handled such a situation because no one in our family ever had any money.

The world that used to nurse us now keeps shouting inane instructions. That's why I ran to the woods.