When I cannot write a poem, I bake biscuits and feel just as pleased.

Cut asparagus at night - in desperation. When one is very tired one always does one more thing.

Only with winter-patience can we bring the deep-desired, long-awaited Spring.

Only when one is connected to one's own core is one connected to others, I am beginning to discover. And, for me, the core, the inner spring, can best be refound through solitude.

We insist on permanency, on continuity, when the only continuity possible is in growth, in freedom, in the sense that the dancers are free, barely touching as they pass but partners in the same pattern. The only real security in a relationship lies neither in looking back in nostalgia, nor forward with dread or anticipation, but living in the present and accepting the relationship as it is now.

People talk about love as though it were something you could give, like an armful of flowers. And a lot of people give love like that -- just dump it down on top of you, a useless strong-scented burden.

It is nice to think how one can be recklessly lost in a daisy!