Something Has Been Said For Sobriety But

I Didn't Want To Be Like Yeats; I Wanted To Be 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 Have Reason To Be Afraid. This Is A Terrible Place.

Life, Friends, Is Boring. We Must Not Say So.

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