A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language.

To have a sense of sin means to feel guilty at there being an ethical choice to make, a guilt which, however "good" I may become, remains unchanged.

Of course, Behaviourism 'works'. So does torture. Give me a no-nonsense, down-to-earth behaviourist, a few drugs, and simple electrical appliances, and in six months I will have him reciting the Athanasian Creed in public.

Yet no one hears his own remarks as prose.

Lay your sleeping head, my love, Human on my faithless arm.

I smell blood and an era of prominent madmen.

It takes little talent to see what lies under one's nose, a good deal to know in what direction to point that organ.