This world is gradually becoming a place Where I do not care to be any more.

I am so wise I had my mouth sewn shut.

I can offer you only: this world like a knife

I conclude now I have no inner resources, because I am heavy bored. Peoples bore me, literature bores me, especially great literature.

Praise will lead you to vanity, and blame will lead you to self-pity, and both are bad for writers.

You should always be trying to write a poem you are unable to write, a poem you lack the technique, the language, the courage to achieve. Otherwise you're merely imitating yourself, going nowhere, because that's always easiest.

Wishin' was dyin' but I gotta make it all this way to that bed on these feet.