Poetry remembers that it was an oral art before it was a written art.

I wonder if I have woven through dreams the sexual strife. I don't think so. But after all, my business is to weave dreams. I suppose I may be allowed to choose the material.

I hardly know what I'm going to write - an article, a story, a poem in free verse - or in some regular form. I only know that when I have the first sentence. And when the first sentence makes a kind of pattern, then I find out the kind of rhythm I'm looking for.

Any life, however long and complicated it may be, actually consists of a single moment — the moment when a man knows forever more who he is.

The time for your labor has been granted.

Blindness has not been for me a total misfortune; it should not be seen in a pathetic way. It should be seen as a way of life: one of the styles of living.

I ask of any God, of any gods, that if they give immortality, I hope to be granted oblivion also.