Hate does not present many choices; if hate is your solution, you are fairly certain to hate all phemonena with equal joy and intensity, without troubling to drag into prominence any one feature from the loathsome whole.

Stupidity always accompanies evil. Or evil, stupidity.

Women have no wilderness in them They are provident instead Content in the tight hot cell of their hearts To eat dusty bread.

I don't like quintessential certitude.

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.

Your work is carved out of agony as a statue is carved out of marble.

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!