Writing Is Like Going To

I Have Gotten So Used To Melancholia That I Greet It Like An Old Friend.

As A Recluse I Couldn't Bear Traffic. It Had Nothing To Do With Jealousy, I Simply Disliked People, Crowds, Anywhere, Except At My Readings. People Diminished Me, They Sucked Me Dry.

You Have To Die A Few Times Before You Can Really Live.

A Spark Can Set A Whole Forest On Fire. Just A Spark. Save It.

Bad Poetry Is Caused By People Who Sit Down And Think, Now I Am Going To Write A Poem.