A note of music gains significance from the silence on either side.

The world has different owners at sunrise... Even your own garden does not belong to you. Rabbits and blackbirds have the lawns; a tortoise-shell cat who never appears in daytime patrols the brick walls, and a golden-tailed pheasant glints his way through the iris spears.

There is no harvest for the heart alone. The seed of love must be eternally re-sown.

I find the weight of air/Almost too great to bear.

Geniuses were like storms or cyclones, pulling everything into their path, sticks and stones and dust.

Why is it that you can sometimes feel the reality of people more keenly through a letter than face to face?

To mention a loved object, a person, or a place to someone else is to invest that object with reality.