The value of the personal relationship to all things is that it creates intimacy and intimacy creates understanding and understanding creates love.

The inner chambers of the soul are like the photographer's darkroom. Like a laboratory. One cannot stay there all the time or it becomes the solitary cell of the neurotic.

The possession of knowledge does not kill the sense of wonder and mystery. There is always more mystery.

The dream was always running ahead of me. To catch up, to live for a moment in unison with it, that was the miracle.

I was stirred only like a leaf in the wind, that is all. . .

I have no brakes on...analysis is for those who are paralyzed by life.

We write to taste life twice, in the moment, and in retrospection.