I live alone, perhaps for no good reason, for the reason that I am an impossible creature, set apart by a temperament I have never learned to use as it could be used, thrown off by a word, a glance, a rainy day, or one drink too many. My need to be alone is balanced against my fear of what will happen when suddenly I enter the huge empty silence if I cannot find support there. I go up to Heaven and down to Hell in an hour, and keep alive only by imposing upon myself inexorable routines. I write too many letters and too few poems.

What we have not has made us what we are. / ... / What we are not drives us to consummation.

Fighting dragons is my holy joy.

Gardening gives one back a sense of proportion about everything - except itself.

Words are more powerful than perhaps anyone suspects, and once deeply engraved in a child's mind, they are not easily eradicated.

People who cannot feel punish those who do.

Family life! The United Nations is child's play compared to the tugs and splits and need to understand and forgive in any family.