Nothing is more wistful than the scent of lilac, nor more robust than its woody stalk, for we must remember that it is a tree as well as a flower, we must try not to forget this.

I don't think Auden liked my poetry very much, he's very Anglican.

I love Death because he breaks the human pattern and frees us from pleasures too prolonged as well as from the pains of this world. It is pleasant, too, to remember that Death lies in our hands; he must come if we call him. ... I think if there were no death, life would be more than flesh and blood could bear.

Why does my muse only speak when she is uhnhappy? She does not, I only listen when I am unhappy.

I only asked my friends to be friendly and polite, I found them indifferent and censorious; The one I left to silence, the other to reproach: God send me over all such friends victorious.

This is the simplest of all thoughts, that Death must come when we call, although he is a god.

The human creature is alone in his carapace. Poetry is a strong way out.