Democracy In The Contemporary World Demands, Among

Being A Poet Is One Of The Unhealthier Jobs--no Regular Hours, So Many Temptations!

I Hated The Salinger Story. It Took Me Days To Go Through It, Gingerly, A Page At A Time, And Blushing With Embarrassment For Him Every Ridiculous Sentence Of The Way. How Can They Let Him Do It?

It Is What We Imagine Knowledge To Be: Dark, Salt, Clear, Moving, Utterly Free, Drawn From The Cold Hard Mouth Of The World, Derived From The Rocky Breasts Forever, Flowing And Drawn, And Since Our Knowledge Is Historical, Flowing, And Flown.

What One Seems To Want In Art, In Experiencing It, Is The Same Thing That Is Necessary For Its Creation, A Self-forgetful, Perfectly Useless Concentration.

I've Never Written The Things I'd Like To Write That I've Admired All My Life. Maybe One Never Does.