I didn't choose poetry: poetry chose me.

A good poem about failure is a success.

You can't put off being young until you retire.

Everyone should be forcibly transplanted to another continent from their family at the age of three.

Here silence stands Like heat. Here leaves unnoticed thicken, Hidden weeds flower, neglected waters quicken, Luminously-peopled air ascends; And past the poppies bluish neutral distance Ends the land suddenly beyond a beach Of shapes and shingle. Here is unfenced existence: Facing the sun, untalkative, out of reach.

What will survive of us is love.

A writer can have only one language, if language is going to mean anything to him.