Every poet has his dream reader: mine keeps a look out for curious prosodic fauna like bacchics and choriambs.

To my generation no other English poet seemed so perfectly to express the sensibility of a male adolescent. If I do not now turn to him very often, I am eternally grateful to him for the joy he gave me in my youth.

We do not change as we grow up. The difference between the child and the adult is that the former doesn't know who he is and the latter does.

Shall memory restore The steps and the shore, The face and the meeting place.

Most people enjoy the sight of their own handwriting as they enjoy the smell of their own farts.

But he would have us most of all remember to be enthusiastic over the night. Not only for the sense of wonder it alone has to offer but also because it needs our love. For with sad eyes its delectable creatures look up and beg us dumbly to ask them to follow. They are exiles who long for a future that lies in our power.

Into this neutral air Where blind skyscrapers use Their full height to proclaim The strength of Collective Man, Each language pours its vain Competitive excuse.