I Tell The Gods Are Still Alive

A Poet Never Feels Useful.

Anyone Who Is Going To Be A Writer Knows Enough At Fifteen To Write Several Novels.

The More Our Bodies Fail Us, The More Naked And More Demanding Is The Spirit, The More Open And Loving We Can Become If We Are Not Afraid Of What We Are And Of What We Feel. I Am Not A Phoenix Yet, But Here Among The Ashes, It May Be That The Pain Is Chiefly That Of New Wings Trying To Push Through.

It Is, I Assume, Quite Easy To Wither Into Old Age, And Hard To Grow Into It.

It Always Comes Back To The Same Necessity: Go Deep Enough And There Is A Bedrock Of Truth, However Hard.