What is there to do when people die - people so dear and rare - but bring them back by remembering?

Anyone who is going to be a writer knows enough at fifteen to write several novels.

For me a true poem is on the way when I begin to be haunted, when it seems as if I were being asked an inescapable question by an angel with whom I must wrestle to get at the answer.

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?

The more articulate one is, the more dangerous words become.

I suppose one has to remember that 'life' is important too, though it's something I forget in some moods, everything except work seeming like an interruption or really non-life.

Public education was not founded to give society what it wants. Quite the opposite.