My flesh winced, in cowardice, from such a death.

Ever since I was small I loved feeling somebody comb my hair. It made me go all sleepy & peaceful.

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.

Everything in life is writable.

If I was going to fall, I would hang on to my small comforts, at least, for as long as I possibly could.

And I identify too closely with my reading, with my writing.

Eternity bores me, I never wanted it.