And now, dear Lord, I cannot wait Because I have a luncheon date.

Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows.

Hymn tunes are the nearest we've got to English folk music.

Too many people in the modern world view poetry as a luxury, not a necessity like petrol. But to me it's the oil of life.

I have a Vision of the Future, chum. The workers flats in fields of soya beans tower up like silver pencils, score on score.

Imprisoned in a cage of sound, even the trivial seems profound

I don't think I am any good. If I thought I was any good, I wouldn't be.