A good poet will usually borrow from authors remote in time, or alien in language, or diverse in interest.
Anxiety is the hand maiden of creativity.
Those who say they give the public what it wants begin by underestimating public taste and end by debauching it.
That is not it at all, That is not what I meant, at all.
My life is light, waiting for the death wind, Like a feather on the back of my hand.
There will be time to murder and create.