Any fool can take a bad line out of a poem; it takes a real pro to throw out a good line.
What is madness but nobility of soul at odds with circumstance?
I teach my sighs to lengthen into songs.
What we need is more people who specialize in the impossible.
I can't go on flying apart just for those who want the benefit of a few verbal kicks. My God, do you know what poems like that cost? They're not written vicariously: they come out of actual suffering, real madness.
Over every mountain there is a path, although it may not be seen from the valley.