To live is to feel oneself lost.
I don’t feel guilty about expressing myself in French; nor do I feel that I am continuing the work of the colonizers.
We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done.
Some days I feel good about my work, and sometimes I feel I’ve never written anything worthwhile. That’s par for the course.
No one can feel more gratefully the charm of noble scenery, or the refreshment of escape into the unspoiled solitudes of nature, than the laborer at some close in-door employment.
Music has the power to make me feel good like nothing else does. It gives me some peace for a while. Takes me back to who I really am.
To mourn is to wonder at the strangeness that grief is not written all over your face in bruised hieroglyphics. And it’s also to feel, quite powerfully, that you’re not allowed to descend into the deepest fathom of your grief – that to do so would be taboo somehow.
Complete and total perfection will come about only when we feel that our perfection is no perfections as long as the rest of humanity remains imperfect.
Yes, you can feel very alone as a poet and you sometimes think, is it worth it? Is it worth carrying on? But because there were other poets, you became part of a scene. Even though they were very different writers, it made it easier because you were together.
If you feel yourself to be above the mass, speak so as to raise the mass to the height of your argument.