Compromise Yourself. Obscure Your Own Trail.

I Have Lost My Seven Best Friends, Which Is To Say God Has Had Mercy On Me Seven Times Without Realizing It. He Lent A Friendship, Took It From Me, Sent Me Another.

The Poet Never Asks For Admiration; He Wants To Be Believed.

My Method Is Simple: Not To Bother About Poetry. It Must Come Of Its Own Accord. Merely Whispering Its Name Drives It Away.

Art Is Not A Pastime But A Priesthood.

I Feel Myself Inhabited By A Force Or Being -- Very Little Known To Me. It Gives The Orders; I Follow.