As a poet, one lives a bit on air. I always like someone who can teach me something practical.

Let's face it: I'm scared, scared and frozen. First, I guess, I'm afraid for myself...the old primitive urge for survival. It's getting so I live every moment with terrible intensity.

See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life.

What I didn't say was that each time I picked up a German dictionary or a German book, the very sight of those dense, black, barbed-wire letters made my mind shut like a clam.

I'm about fifty years behind as far as my preferences go and I must say that the poets who excite me most are the Americans. There are very few contemporary English poets that I admire.

Love, love, I have hung our cave with roses.

If the moon smiled, she would resemble you. You leave the same impression Of something beautiful, but annihilating.