“You bitch,' he said. 'You rich bitch. That's poetry. I'm full of poetry now. Rot and poetry. Rotten poetry.”
“I've never loved any one else the way I love you. I'm full of poetry now. Rot and poetry. Rotten poetry.''Stop it. Harry, why do you have to turn into a devil now?''I don't like to leave anything,' the man said. 'I don't like to leave things behind.”
“I've had it with these cheap sons of bitches who claim they love poetry but never buy a book.”
“I'm a poet and you are poetry”
“What is poetry? you ask, while fixing your blue pupil on mine.What is poetry! And you are asking me?Poetry...is you.”
“Poetry was syllable and rhythm. Poetry was the measurement of breath. Poetry was time make audible. Poetry evoked the present moment; poetry was the antidote to history. Poetry was language free from habit.”