When critics are waiting to pounce upon poetic style on exactly the same grounds as if it were prose, the poets tremble.

Till now poets were privileged to insert a certain proportion of nonsense - very far in excess of one-half of one per cent - into their otherwise sober documents.

And yet what is Modernism? It is undefined.

But we moderns are impatient and destructive.

God have mercy on the sinner Who must write with no dinner, No gravy and no grub, No pewter and no pub, No bellyand no bowels, Only consonants and vowels.

In all the good Greek of Plato I lack my roastbeef and potato. A better man was Aristotle, Pulling steady on the bottle.

He can develop sense and style, in the manner of distinguished modern prose, in which event he may be sure that the result will not fall into any objective form.

Too much is demanded by the critic, attempted by the poet.

It is a miracle of harmony, of the adaptation of the free inner life to the outward necessity of things.

For no art and no religion is possible until we make allowances, until we manage to keep quiet the enfant terrible of logic that plays havoc with the other faculties.

And how can poetry stand up against its new conditions? Its position is perfectly precarious.

He, who dares seek God's presence, will receive His blessings and favours.

The truth is that life is delicious, horrible, charming, frightful, sweet, bitter, and that is everything.

Many people are afraid to talk about race because it's so emotionally loaded. We don't have the vocabulary to talk about it. Every day, our vocabulary seems more and more inadequate.

As the artist picks his way along, rejecting and accepting as he goes, certain patterns of enquiry emerge.

If Dracula would be happy there, so will your wine.

In 1995, I was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society.

I'm all for whatever it takes to get wherever you need to get with a character, as long as you don't wipe it on me.

The conqueror writes history, they came, they conquered and they write. You don't expect the people who came to invade us to tell the truth about us.

You, me, this city, this country, we will always have a choice.When you stand up to be counted, tell the world, THIS IS MY VOICE. There are many like it, but this one is mine.

The only human value of anything, writing included, is intense vision of the facts.