A writer can have only one language, if language is going to mean anything to him.
It becomes still more difficult to find Words at once true and kind, Or not untrue and not unkind.
It is fatal to decide, intellectually, what good poetry is because you are then in honour bound to try to write it, instead of the poems that only you can write.
I have no enemies. But my friends don't like me.
Life has a practice of living you, if you don't live it.
What are days for? Days are where we live. They come, they wake us Time and time over. Theyare to be happy in: Where can we live but days?