One Of The Springs Of Poetry Is

What Is There To Do When People Die - People So Dear And Rare - But Bring Them Back By Remembering?

I Have Never Written A Book That Was Not Born Out Of A Question I Needed To Answer For Myself.

It Is Clear That We Do Not Exactly Choose Our Poems; Our Poems Choose Us.

True Gardeners Cannot Bear A Glove Between The Sure Touch And The Tender Root.

Sometimes One Has Simply To Endure A Period Of Depression For What It May Hold Of Illumination If One Can Live Through It, Attentive To What It Exposes Or Demands.