This love is silent.
Anxiety is the hand maiden of creativity.
Our high respect for a well read person is praise enough for literature.
Any poet, if he is to survive beyond his 25th year, must alter; he must seek new literary influences; he will have different emotions to express.
The last thing one discovers in composing a work is what to put first.
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.
I don’t believe one grows older. I think that what happens early on in life is that at a certain age one stands still and stagnates.
Home is where one starts from.
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.