Oh Wasn't it naughty of Smudges? Oh, Mummy, I'm sick with disgust. She threww me in front of the judges, And my silly old collar-bone's bust.

Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows.

Too many people in the modern world view poetry as a luxury, not a necessity like petrol. But to me it's the oil of life.

It's strange that those we miss the most Are those we take for granted.

Now if the harvest is over, And the world cold, Give me the bonus of laughter, As I lose hold.

History must not be written with bias, and both sides must be given, even if there is only one side.

People's backyards are much more interesting than their front gardens, and houses that back on to railways are public benefactors.

I ought to warn you that my verse is of no interest to people who can think.

And I think it was the outline of that church tower at Belaugh against the sky which gave me a passion for churches so that every church I've past since I've wanted to stop and look in.

And now, dear Lord, I cannot wait Because I have a luncheon date.

Topography is one of my chief themes in my poetry, about the country, the suburbs and the seaside. Then there comes love... and increasingly; the fear of death.

If sacrifice is not the theme of my life, there’s no sense telling the story.

Do people really believe there's something different about the eyes of murderers?

If you really look, it's not a tax - it's really not a great thing for the wealthy. It's a great thing for the middle class. It's a great thing for companies to expand.

It's very tiring, being so old. But I do love living.

Somewhere along the line, many Americans relegated the media to a notch on the morality scale only slightly above that of child molesters.

But I needed to prove to everyone that I was a serious musician.

George Bush and John Ashcroft were religious in a scary way, but the rational among us could always take heart that, deep down, the Bush administration was more cynical than messianic.

If I never saw another fistfight or car chase or Doberman attack, I wouldn't have any feeling of loss. And that goes for Rottweilers, too.

No one, not even lovers, are truly psychic, and everyone flounders around each other, misunderstanding, misinterpreting, sending out confusing signals.

The determination of life insurance salesmen to succeed has made life pretty soft for widows.