Few are wholly dead: Blow on a dead man's embers And a live flame will start.

To be a poet is a condition rather than a profession.

Love is a universal migraine, A bright stain on the vision, Blotting out reason.

Then he asked the question that you are all itching to ask me: 'How can you tell good poetry from bad?' I answered, 'How does one tell good fish from bad? Surely by the smell? Use your nose.'

If there's no money in poetry, neither is there poetry in money.