Certainly the modern poets I cherish most are disturbing spirits; they do not come to coo.
In every house of marriage there's room for an interpreter.
When they shall paint our sockets gray And light us like a stinking fuse, Remember that we once could say, Yesterday we had a world to lose.
An old poet ought never to be caught with his technique showing.
Poetry is the enemy of the poem.
Forward my mail to Mars.