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!

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.

I don't like quintessential certitude.

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

The art of one period cannot be approached through the attitudes (emotional or intellectual) of another.

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

I have lost faith in universal panaceas - work is the one thing in which I really believe.