What are stars but points in the body of God where we insert the healing needles of our terror and longing?
To write a poem is like trying to catch a lizard without its tail falling off.
The realisation of one's own death is the point at which one becomes adult.
Journeys, like artists, are born and not made. A thousand differing circumstances contribute to them, few of them willed or determined by the will-whatever we may think.
All artists today are expected to cultivate a little fashionable unhappiness.
Now stiff on a pillar with a phallic air nelson stylites in Trafalgar square reminds the British what once they were.