I am hard to disgust, but a pretentious poet can do it

... imaginary gardens with real toads in them ... ... if you demand on one hand, the raw material of poetry in all its rawness and that which is on the other hand genuine, then you are interested in poetry.

I'm troubled. I'm dissatisfied. I'm Irish.

The enslaver is enslaved, the hater, harmed.

One must be as clear as one's natural reticence allows one to be.

I believe verbal felicity is the fruit of ardor, of diligence, and of refusing to be false.

Revision is its own reward.