The most important thing for poets to do is to write as little as possible.
There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet.
Where there is no temple there shall be no homes.
Paint me the bold anfractuous rocks Faced by the snarled and yelping seas.
Writing every day is a way of keeping the engine running, and then something good may come out of it.
When lovely woman stoops to folly and Paces about her room again, alone, She smooths her hair with automatic hand, And puts a record on the gramophone.
The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink.
The tiger springs in the new year. Us he devours.
An editor should tell the author his writing is better than it is. Not a lot better, a little better.
The communication of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.
The role of art is not to express the personality but to overcome it.
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
I love reading another reader’s list of favorites. Even when I find I do not share their tastes or predilections, I am provoked to compare, contrast, and contradict. It is a most healthy exercise, and one altogether fruitful.
There is no method but to be very intelligent.
Playwriting gets into your blood and you can’t stop it. At least not until the producers or the public tell you to.
Home is where one starts from.
Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take, towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.
At the still point, there the dance is.
So the lover must struggle for words.
Stand on the highest pavement of the stair- Lean on a garden urn- Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair.