The poem is always the last resort. In it the poet makes a world in little, and finds peace, even though, under complete focused emotion, the evocation be far more bitter than reality, or far more lovely.

Poetry is often generations in advance of the thought of its time.

Because language is the carrier of ideas, it is easy to believe that it should be very little else than such a carrier.

Stupidity always accompanies evil. Or evil, stupidity.

But it's silly to suggest the writing of poetry is something ethereal, a sort of soul-crashing, devastating emotional experience that wrings you. I have no fancy ideas about poetry. ... It doesn't come to you on the wings of a dove. It's something you have to work hard at.

Perhaps this very instant is your time.

Innocence of heart and violence of feeling are necessary in any kind of superior achievement: The arts cannot exist without them.