A man is a writer if all his words are strung in definite sentence sounds.

I see no reason for calling my work poetry except that there is no other category in which to put it.

I, too, dislike it. Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one discovers in it, after all, a place for the genuine.

Revision is its own reward.

There is a great amount of poetry in unconscious fastidiousness.

What is our innocence, What is our guilt? All are naked, none is safe.

All are / naked, none is safe.