Poets are regarded as handicapped writers whose work must be treated with a tender condescension, such as one accords the athletic achievements of basketball players confined to wheelchairs.

Laughter is just a slowed down scream of terror.

The gods, after all, are only human, and once their rage has been placated they are perfectly capable of acts of mercy and grace.

All children... feel a demonic sympathy with those things that cause disorder in the grown-up world.

Creativeness is finding patterns where none exist.

Genius is an infinite capacity for pain.

So, without saying anything to the others, it made its way to the farthest corner of the meadow and began to toast an imaginary muffin. That was always the best way to unwind when things got to be too much for it.