How delightfully single I were, yet now I bask in her happiness - as if were my own.

I favour neither light nor darkness: I'm scared of both equally.

I am a student of poetry, I always will be.

After I write I feel displeased; this could be better. Yet months to a year later...'how lovely'.

I don't want to die, but if I have to I will.

If I am plan B, then I have spared many from plan C.

The more I tell myself to shut-up, the worse I get.

One cannot plagiarize oneself.

Writing poetry isn't hard, it's realizing you're not yet good at it, that's hard.

Up until 1 year ago, I thought sonnets were a complexly woven type of hat.