Forward My Mail To Mars.

The Heart Breaks And Breaks And Lives By Breaking It Is Necessary To Go Through Dark And Deeper Dark And Not To Turn

A Poet Needs To Keep His Wilderness Alive Inside Him.

An Old Poet Ought Never To Be Caught With His Technique Showing.

One Critic Wrote . . . That My Poems Sounded As Though They Had Been Translated From The Hungarian. I Don't Know Why, But Somehow That Made Me Feel Quite Lighthearted.

A Poem Has Secrets That The Poet Knows Nothing Of.