There is something in me maybe someday to be written; now it is folded, and folded, and folded, like a note in school.

The teaching is very rewarding, and very time-consuming, and very exhausting. But it's wonderful. The community here at NYU is very precious to me.

I didn't have time to sit down and look at the work of a year and choose what to type.

When I quit all these things and said I didn't have any time, I meant I didn't have any time.

The older I get, the more I feel.

My poems - I don't even like the sound of that, in a way. Not that anyone else wrote them. But we know that only people who are really close to us care about our personal experience.

This creature of the poem may assemble itself into a being with its own centrifugal force.