... love is healing, even rootless love.

For of course one is never safe when in love. Growth is demanding and may seem dangerous, for there is loss as well as gain in growth. But why go on living if one has ceased to grow? And what more demanding atmosphere for growth than love in any form, than any relationship which can call out and requires of us our most secret and deepest selves?

I know you have much to bear with in me, and I really do sometimes in you, but I have never looked at friendship in a deep sense as easy or entirely comfortable.

In the novel or the journal you get the journey. In a poem you get the arrival.

There is a proper balance between not asking enough of oneself and asking or expecting too much.

In poetry compromise is fatal. In action of any cooperative sort it is inevitable. The thing is to find the balance.

Poetry has a way of teaching one what one needs to know ... if one is honest.