I Don't Like Quintessential Certitude.

No More Pronouncements On Lousy Verse. No More Hidden Competition. No More Struggling Not To Be A Square.

Once Form Has Been Smashed, It Has Been Smashed For Good, And Once A Forbidden Subject Has Been Released, It Has Been Released For Good.

The Intellectual Is A Middle-class Product; If He Is Not Born Into The Class He Must Soon Insert Himself Into It, In Order To Exist. He Is The Fine Nervous Flower Of The Bourgeoisie.

The Fact, And The Intuition Or Logic About The Fact, Are Severe Coordinates In Fiction. In The Short Story They Must Cross With Hair-line Precision.

It Is Not Possible, For A Poet, Writing In Any Language, To Protect Himself From The Tragic Elements In Human Life.... [ellipsis In Source] Illness, Old Age, And Death--subjects As Ancient As Humanity--these Are The Subjects That The Poet Must Speak Of Very Nearly From The First Moment That He Begins To Speak.