What is our innocence, What is our guilt? All are naked, none is safe.
One writes because one has a burning desire to objectify what it is indispensable to one's happiness to express.
The heart that gives, gathers.
A writer is unfair to himself when he is unable to be hard on himself.
Poetry, that is to say the poetic, is a primal necessity.
When one cannot appraise out of one's own experience, the temptation to blunder is minimized, but even when one can, appraisal seems chiefly useful as appraisal of the appraiser.