It is not possible, for a poet, writing in any language, to protect himself from the tragic elements in human life.... [ellipsis in source] Illness, old age, and death--subjects as ancient as humanity--these are the subjects that the poet must speak of very nearly from the first moment that he begins to speak.

A thousand kindnesses do not make up for a thousand blows.

True revolutions in art restore more than they destroy.

No more pronouncements on lousy verse. No more hidden competition. No more struggling not to be a square.

I'll lie here and learn How, over their ground, Trees make a long shadow And a light sound.

...in a time lacking in truth and certainty and filled with anguish and despair, no woman should be shamefaced in attempting to give back to the world, through her work, a portion of its lost heart.

I cannot believe that the inscrutable universe turns on an axis of suffering; surely the strange beauty of the world must somewhere rest on pure joy!