Who wants to put together something that will bear some relationship to the vision or memory or experience or story or idea or dream or whatever.

I'm not sure that the benefit - as a writer and as a citizen - that I would get from reading at least the front page of the Times every day or every other day would outweigh the depression.

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

Maybe in order to understand sex fully/one has to risk being destroyed by it.

Poems come from ordinary experiences and objects, I think. Out of memory - a dress I lent my daughter on her way back to college; a newspaper photograph of war; a breast self-exam; the tooth fairy; Calvinist parents who beat up their children; a gesture of love; seeing oneself naked over age 50 in a set of bright hotel bathroom mirrors.

it is forbidden to love where we are not loved

We're all taking on too much, we're all asking too much of ourselves. We're all wishing we could do more, and therefore just doing more.