An Old Poet Ought Never To Be

Darling, Do You Remember The Man You Married? Touch Me, Remind Me Who I Am.

Certainly The Modern Poets I Cherish Most Are Disturbing Spirits; They Do Not Come To Coo.

When You Look Back On A Lifetime And Think Of What Has Been Given To The World By Your Presence, Your Fugitive Presence, Inevitably You Think Of Your Art, Whatever It May Be, As The Gift You Have Made To The World In Acknowledgment Of The Gift You Have Been Given, Which Is The Life Itself... That Work Is Not An Expression Of The Desire For Praise Or Recognition, Or Prizes, But The Deepest Manifestation Of Your Gratitiude For The Gift Of Life.

I Like An Ending That's Both A Door And A Window.

Memory Is Each Man's Poet-in-residence.