It is not tricks of sense But the time’s fright within me which distracts Least fancies into violence.

I would feel dead if I didn’t have the ability periodically to put my world in order with a poem. I think to be inarticulate is a great suffering, and is especially so to anyone who has a certain knack for poetry.

Writing poetry is talking to oneself; yet it is a mode of talking to oneself in which the self disappears; and the product’s something that, though it may not be for everybody, is about everybody.

Odd that a thing is most itself when likened.

That’s the main business of the poem!-to see if you can’t make up a language that sets all your selves talking at once-all of them being fair to each other.

A thrush, because I’d been wrong, Burst rightly into song In a world not vague, not lonely, Not governed by me only.

All that we do is touched with ocean, and yet we remain on the shore of what we know.

Outside the open window The morning air is all awash with angels.

Most women know that sex isgood for headaches.

I would feel dead if I didn't have the ability periodically to put my world in order with a poem. I think to be inarticulate is a great suffering, and is especially so to anyone who has a certain knack for poetry.