It Is Always Hard To Hear The

A Holiday Gives One A Chance To Look Backward And Forward; To Reset Oneself By An Inner Compass.

A Poet Never Feels Useful.

Why Should It Happen That Among The Great Many Women Whom I See And Am Fond Of, Suddenly Somebody I Meet For Half An Hour Opens The Door Into Poetry?

Love Opens The Doors Into Everything, As Far As I Can See, Including And Perhaps Most Of All, The Door Into One's Own Secret, And Often Terrible And Frightening, Real Self.

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