We only keep what we lose.

We are able to laugh when we achieve detachment, if only for a moment.

We have to believe that every person counts, counts as a creative force that can move mountains.

A man with a talent does what is expected of him, makes his way, constructs, is an engineer, a composer, a builder of bridges. It's the natural order of things that he construct objects outside himself and his family. The woman who does so is aberrant. We have to expiate for this cursed talent someone handed out to us, by mistake, in the black mystery of genetics.

a poet never feels useful.

I sometimes imagine that as one grows older one comes to live a role which as a young person one merely 'played.

It is possible, I suppose, that we are returning to a Dark Age. What is frightening is that violence is not only represented by nations, but everywhere walks among us freely.