Breathe-in Experience, Breathe-out Poetry.

I Am Haunted By Interrupted Acts, Introspective As A Leper, Enchanted By A Repulsive Clew, A Gross And Fugitive Movement Of The Limbs. Is This The Love That Shook The Lights To Flame?

A Work Of Art Is One Through Which The Consciousness Of The Artist Is Able To Give Its Emotions To Anyone Who Is Prepared To Receive Them.

I Remember Mother Saying : Inventors Are Like Poets, A Trashy Lot

What Would Happen If One Woman Told The Truth About Her Life? The World Would Split Open.

No One Wants To Read Poetry. You Have To Make It Impossible For Them To Put The Poem Down--impossible For Them To Stop Reading It, Word After Word. You Have To Keep Them From Closing The Book.