The industrial world destroys nature not because it doesn’t love it but because it is not afraid of it.

In our marginal existence, what else is there but this voice within us, this great weirdness we are always leaning forward to listen to?

People, the people we really love, where did they come from? What did we do to deserve them?

There is a world which poets cannot seem to enter. It is the world everybody else lives in. And the only thing poets seem to have in common is their yearning to enter this world.

Every creative act is an act of hypocrisy and violence. You may have to think about it for a while, but I am sure you can discover your own.

There’s a difference between being alone and being lonely. Writers know that. I have never met a writer who does not crave to be alone. We have to be alone to do what we do.

Words have a love for each other, a desire that culminates in poetry.