I think poetry always lives its life, and people come to it and people go away from it, ‘people’ in the sense of larger numbers of people. It’s as though you begin to think that poetry is a resource, and that at certain times people seem to need it or want it or can find sustenance in it, and at other times they can’t.
The hours I spend with you I look upon as sort of a perfumed garden, a dim twilight, and a fountain singing to it. You and you alone make me feel that I am alive. Other men it is said have seen angels, but I have seen thee and thou art enough.
Faith goes out through the window when beauty comes in at the door.
My father read poetry to me, encouraged me to memorize poems. But the writing of it was quite a different thing.
All moral laws are merely statements that certain kinds of actions will have good effects.
When you begin to write poems because you love language, because you love poetry. Something happens that makes you write poems. And the writing of poems is incredibly pleasurable and addictive.
A great artist is always before his time or behind it.
Sometimes you have a poem that you really want to write and it never happens.
If you spend your whole life being depressed about life, you’re wasting it.
The lot of critics is to be remembered by what they failed to understand.