When rivers flooded, when fire fell from the sky, what a fine place the library was, the many rooms, the books. With luck, no one found you. How could they!--when you were off to Tanganyika in '98, Cairo in 1812, Florence in 1492!?

I think the only way we can grow and get on in this world is to accept the fact we're not perfect and live accordingly.

The things that you do should be things that you love, and things that you love should be things that you do.

I've been writing every day of my life for 65 years.

You've been put on the world to love the act of being alive.

I believe in creative failing - to contine to write poems that fail and fail and fail until a day comes when you've got a thousand poems behind you and you're relaxed and you finally write a good poem.

Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were headed for shore.