I didn't want to be like Yeats; I wanted to be Yeats.

Them lady poets must not marry, pal.

Bats have no bankers and they do not drink and cannot be arrested and pay no tax and, in general, bats have it made.

The artist is extremely lucky who is presented with the worst possible ordeal which will not actually kill him. At that point, he's in business.

Offering Dragons quarter is no good, they regrow all their parts and come on again. They have to be killed.

One must be ruthless with one's own writing or someone else will be.

I didn't want to be like Yeats; I wanted to be Yeats.