1. He was my North, my South, my East and West,My working week and my Sunday rest,My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
Collected Poems
2. Truth, like love and sleep, resents approaches that are too intense.
3. All the rest is silenceOn the other side of the wall;And the silence ripeness,And the ripeness all.
The Sea and the Mirror
4. Every poet has his dream reader: mine keeps a look out for curious prosodic fauna like bacchics and choriambs.
5. The element of craftsmanship in poetry is obscured by the fact that all men are taught to speak and most to read and write, while very few men are taught to draw or paint or write music.
