As a poet I would say everything should be able to come into a poem but I can't put toothbrushes in a poem. I really can't.

You know what lies are for.

Strange, when one thinks of all the other boys, infinite experimental kisses, test tube infatuations, crushes, pseudo-loves. All through this physical separation, through the testing and the trying of the others, there has been this peculiar rapport, comradeship, of us two so alike, so similar, but for science-boy and humanities-girl - the introspection, self examination, biannual deep summarizing conversations, and then the platonic parting.

Why can’t I try on different lives, like dresses, to see which fits best and is more becoming?

The trouble about jumping was that if you didn't pick the right number of stories, you might still be alive when you hit bottom.

Kiss me and you will see how important I am.

Every day one has to earn the name of 'writer' over again, with much wrestling.