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.

Write to amuse? What an appalling suggestion! I write to make people anxious and miserable and to worsen their indigestion.

Bloody men are like bloody buses - you wait for about a year and as soon as one approaches your stop two or three others appear.

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.

The reason modern poetry is difficult is so that the poet's wife cannot understand 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.