I have a theory that if you've got the kind of parents who want to send you to boarding school, you're probably better off at boarding school.

I always tell students that writing a poem and publishing it are two quite separate things, and you should write what you have to write, and if you're afraid it's going to upset someone, don't publish it.

At lunchtime I bought a huge orange The size of it made us all laugh. I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave— They got quarters and I had a half. And that orange it made me so happy, As ordinary things often do Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park This is peace and contentment. It's new. The rest of the day was quite easy. I did all my jobs on my list And enjoyed them and had some time over. I love you. I'm glad I exist.

I've never been more famous than I was, suddenly, in 1986.

When a poem doesn't work, the first question to ask yourself is, 'Am I telling the truth?'

I think it's a question which particularly arises over women writers: whether it's better to have a happy life or a good supply of tragic plots.

My heart has made its mind up And I’m afraid it’s you. Whatever you’ve got lined up, My heart has made its mind up And if you can’t be signed up This year, next year will do. My heart has made its mind up And I’m afraid it’s you.