Elegance Ceases To Exist When It Is

I Only Fear The Death Of Others. For Me, True Death Is That Of The People I Love

There Are Poets And There Are Grownups.

Poetry Is A Religion Without Hope. The Poet Exhausts Himself In Its Service, Knowing That, In The Long Run, A Masterpiece Is Nothing But The Performance Of A Trained Dog On Very Shaky Ground.

A Picture Is Not A Window...an Abstract Refers To No Reality But Its Own.

Childhood Knows What It Wants - To Leave Childhood Behind.