Bad women poets are better characters, they seldom... get drunk... go to prison... shoot the pianist. Their faults are soul fullness and banality. They like to commune (who does not) with the deity, nature, and themselves, but their words do not quite carry the traffic... some bad men poets can persuade people... that tricks and shocks are a substitute for talent... good poets of either sex are above these quarrels.
There are moments of despair that come sometimes, when night sets in and a white fog presses against the windows. Then our house changes its shape, rears up and becomes a place of despair. Then fear and rage run simply--and the thought of Death as a friend. This is the simplest of thoughts, that Death must come when we call, although he is a god.