over and over again I am struck by the wordiness of modern poetry, as if language had replaced experience and must be more and more extreme, intricate and in a way divorced from life itself. It seems as if what we all need is a great purification - but how will that come about?

I feel often very close to the ecstasy and anguish which lie at the very heart of poetry - I am writing a lot.

Once more I realize that solitude is my element, and the reason is that extreme awareness of other people (all naturally solitary people must feel this) precludes awareness of one's self, so after a while the self no longer knows that it exists.

Though friendship is not quick to burn it is explosive stuff.

Lunches are just not good. They take the heart out of the day and the spaciousness from the morning's work.

In a total work, the failures have their not unimportant place.

I think that passion if really intense is always destructive if not to the two involved, always to other people.