Fame Is A Form, Perhaps The Worst

Heaven And Hell Seem Out Of Proportion To Me: The Actions Of Men Do Not Deserve So Much.

All That Happens To Us, Including Our Humiliations, Our Misfortunes, Our Embarrassments, All Is Given To Us As Raw Material, As Clay, So That We May Shape Our Art.

A Writer Should Have Another Lifetime To See If He's Appreciated.

I Wonder If I Have Woven Through Dreams The Sexual Strife. I Don't Think So. But After All, My Business Is To Weave Dreams. I Suppose I May Be Allowed To Choose The Material.

Time Broadens The Scope Of Verses And I Know Of Some Which, Like Music, Are Everything For All Men.