“Dying is an art.Like everything else,I do it exceptionally well.I do it so it feels like hell.I do it so it feels real.I guess you could say I have a call.”

“LADY LAZARUSI have done it again.One year in every tenI manage it--A sort of walking miracle, my skinBright as a Nazi lampshade,My right footA paperweight,My face a featureless, fineJew linen.Peel ...”

“I am terrified by this dark thingThat sleeps in me;All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.”

“Is it the sea you hear in me,Its dissatisfactions?Or the voice of nothing, that was you madness?”

“The blood jet is poetryThere is no stopping it.”

“I am inhabited by a cry. Nightly it flaps outLooking, with its hooks, for something to love.”

“Im not a woman you bring home to Mother, pick out china patterns with, or Mary forefend, breed. Ive seen a chunk of the universe, true, but theres still so much more to see. I doubt Ill ever cure t...”

“My hope, my heaven, my trust must be,My gentle guide, in following thee.”

“Amory took to writing poetry on spring afternoons, in the gardens of the big estates near Princeton, while swans made effective atmosphere in the artificial pools, and slow clouds sailed harmonious...”