Sex means nothing--just the moment of ecstasy, that flares and dies in minutes.

Uncontradicting solitude Supports me on its giant palm; And like a sea-anemone Or simple snail, there cautiously Unfolds, emerges, what I am.

On me your voice falls as they say love should, Like an enormous yes.

What will survive of us is love.

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

I can't understand these chaps who go round American universities explaining how they write poems: It's like going round explaining how you sleep with your wife.