I tell the gods are still alive / And they are not consoling.

No partner in a love relationship... should feel that he has to give up an essential part of himself to make it viable.

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

I suppose real old age begins when one looks backward rather than forward

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

I can tell you that solitude Is not all exaltation, inner space Where the soul breathes and work can be done. Solitude exposes the nerve, Raises up ghosts. The past, never at rest, flows through it.

Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is the richness of self.