Where Joy In An Old Pencil Is

Each New Poem Is Partly Propelled By The Formal Energies Of All The Poems That Have Preceded It In The History Of Literature.

A House That Does Not Have One Warm, Comfy Chair In It Is Soulless.

The Tragic Thing About Learning From Experience Is I Fear That One Can Only Learn From One's Own Experience. Other People's - Other Nations' - Experiences Simply Do Not Help. They Can Be Imaginatively Learned From. But People Do Not Act On Other People's Experiences.

In The Country Of Pain We Are Each Alone.

Gardening Is The Instrument Of Grace.