The More Articulate One Is, The More

I Am Furious At All The Letters To Answer, When All I Want To Do Is Think And Write Poems. ... I Long For Open Time, With No Obligations Except Toward The Inner World And What Is Going On There.

There Were Moments ... When It Seemed That All One Could Be Asked Was Just To Keep The Ashtrays Clean, The Bed Made, The Wastebaskets Emptied, As If One Never Got To The Real Things Because Of The Constant Exhausting Battle To Keep Ordinary Life From Falling Apart.

A Garden Is Always A Series Of Losses Set Against A Few Triumphs, Like Life Itself.

Making Order Out Of Disorder Any Time, Anywhere, Can Be Regarded As A Sacrament.

You Will Always Be Here With Me; As Long As I Live, A Towering Figure Of Love.