Time Is A Sandpile We Run Our

A Book Is Never A Masterpiece: It Becomes One. Genius Is The Talent Of A Dead Man.

The Greatest Cunning Is To Have None At All.

I Make It Clear Why I Write As I Do And Why Other Poets Write As They Do. After Hundreds Of Experiments I Decided To Go My Own Way In Style And See What Would Happen.

It Is Necessary ... For A Man To Go Away By Himself ... To Sit On A Rock ... And Ask, 'who Am I, Where Have I Been, And Where Am I Going?

When I Was Writing Pretty Poor Poetry, This Girl With Midnight Black Hair Told Me To Go On.