I feel the only thing you can do about life is to preserve it, by art if you're an artist, by children if you're not.

I think that at the bottom of all art lies the impulse to preserve.

So many things I had thought forgotten Return to my mind with stranger pain: Like letters that arrive addressed to someone Who left the house so many years ago.

I am always trying to 'preserve' things by getting other people to read what I have written, and feel what I felt.

I don't think I write well - just better than anyone else.

The way the moon dashes through clouds that blow Loosely as cannon-smoke... Is a reminder of the strength and pain Of being young; that it can't come again, But is for others undiminished somewhere.

Most things may never happen: this one will.