I have been overcome by the beauty and richness of our life together, those early mornings setting out, those evenings gleaming with rivers and lakes below us, still holding the last light.

After all, I don't see why I am always asking for private, individual, selfish miracles when every year there are miracles like white dogwood.

We walk up the beach under the stars. And when we are tired of walking, we lie flat on the sand under a bowl of stars. We feel stretched, expanded to take in their compass. They pour into us until we are filled with stars, up to the brim.

Rivers perhaps are the only physical features of the world that are at their best from the air.

Woman's normal occupations in general run counter to creative life, or contemplative life, or saintly life.

# "I saw the most beautiful cat today. It was sitting by the side of the road, its two front feet neatly and graciously together. Then it gravely swished around its tail to completely encircle itself. It was so fit and beautifully neat, that gesture, and so self-satisfied, so complacent.

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