What The Public Criticizes In You, Cultivate.

How Our Old Friend [michelangelo] Of The Sistine Would Have Loved To Photograph His Workers, Perched On The Fragile Planks. Dali Was Right To Say Leonardo Only Worked From Photographs.

I Am Happy To Exhibit, But Not To Put Myself On Exhibition.

Poets Don't Draw. They Unravel Their Handwriting And Then Tie It Up Again, But Differently.

At All Costs The True World Of Childhood Must Prevail, Must Be Restored; That World Whose Momentous, Heroic, Mysterious Quality Is Fed On Airy Nothings, Whose Substance Is So Ill-fitted To Withstand The Brutal Touch Of Adult Inquisition.

Poetry Is A Religion With No Hope.