In the midst of our happiness we were very pleased.
Poetry is a dream dreamed in the presence of reason.
How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are?
A work of art is never completed, merely abandoned.
There is only one plot: Things are not what they seem.
The art of running the mile consists, in essence, of reaching the threshold of consciousness at the instant of breasting the tape.
Keep your eye clear and hit ’em where they ain’t.
Let’s play two.
Poetry begins where certitude ends.
The art of writing is the art of discovering what you believe.
For me the initial delight is in the surprise of remembering something I didn’t know I already knew.
Writing is easy. All you have to do is cross out the wrong words.
I like restraint—if doesn’t go too far.