He laughed like an irresponsible foetus.

The dripping blood our only drink, The bloody flesh our only food: In spite of which we like to think That we are sound, substantial flesh and blood Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good.

Every end is a beginning...And every beginning is an end.

Home is where one starts from.

The work of creation is never without travail.

Any poet, if he is to survive beyond his 25th year, must alter; he must seek new literary influences; he will have different emotions to express.

Unreal friendship may turn to real But real friendship, once ended, cannot be mended