If I Didn’t Think, I’d Be Much

I Think The Coming Of Spring, The Stars Overhead, The First Snowfall And So On Are Gifts For A Child, A Young Poet.

My Life Is A Discipline, A Prison: I Live For My Own Work, Without Which I Am Nothing.

And I Am Aware Of My Heart: It Opens And Closes Its Bowl Of Red Blooms Out Of Sheer Love Of Me.

What I Fear Most, I Think, Is The Death Of The Imagination.

I Am Afraid Of Getting Married. Spare Me From Cooking Three Meals A Dayspare Me From The Relentless Cage Of Routine And Rote.