I Didn't Want To Be Like Yeats;

I Think That What Happens In My Poetic Work In The Future Will Depend On My Being Knocked In The Face, And Thrown Flat, And Given Cancer, And All Kinds Of Other Things Short Of Senile Dementia.

We Are Using Our Own Skins For Wallpaper And We Cannot Win.

Two Daiquiris Withdrew Into A Corner Of A Gorgeous Room And One Told The Other A Lie.

I Am So Wise I Had My Mouth Sewn Shut.

We Must Travel In The Direction Of Our Fear.