Home is so sad. It stays as it was left, / Shaped to the comfort of the last to go / As if to win them back

Man hands on misery to man. It deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can, and don't have any kids yourself.

Any memory for the most part depending on chance.

Many modern novels have a beginning, a muddle and an end.

A good poem about failure is a success.

And immediately Rather than words comes the thought of high windows: The sun-comprehending glass, And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless.

When I get sent manuscripts from aspiring poets, I do one of two things: if there is no stamped self-addressed envelope, I throw it into the bin.-If there is, I write and tell them to f**k off.