And what is happy? It is a going always on. There is something better to be done than I have done, and spurred by the fair delusion of progress, I will seek to progress, to whip myself on, to more and more- to learning. Always.

Poetry, I feel, is a tyrannical discipline. You've got to go so far, so fast, in such a small space, that you've got to burn away all the peripherals.

The day I went into physics class it was death.

I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me.

We stayed at home to write, to consolidate our outstretched selves.

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

Dying Is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well.