I don't miss teaching. I'm learning to take my time for myself.

Once off the bush The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour. I always felt like crying. It wasn't fair That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot. Each year I hoped they'd keep, knew they would not. -Blackberry picking

It is difficult at times to repress the thought that history is about as instructive as an abattoir; that Tacitus was right and that peace is merely the desolation left behind after the decisive operations of merciless power.

I have always thought of poems as stepping stones in one's own sense of oneself. Every now and again, you write a poem that gives you self-respect and steadies your going a little bit farther out in the stream. At the same time, you have to conjure the next stepping stone because the stream, we hope, keeps flowing.

I've nothing against the Queen personally: I had lunch at the Palace once upon a time.

If poetry and the arts do anything, they can fortify your inner life, your inwardness.

I've always associated the moment of writing with a moment of lift, of joy, of unexpected reward.