We are always bargaining with our feelings so that we can live from day to day.

Eternally, woman spills herself away in driblets to the thirsty, seldom being allowed the time, the quiet, the peace, to let the pitcher fill up to the brim.

The only real security is not in owning or possessing, not in demanding or expecting, not in hoping, even. Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what it was, nor forward to what it might be, but living in the present and accepting it as it is now.

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

Nothing feeds the center of being so much as creative work. The curtain of mechanization has come down between the mind and the hand.

Nothing feeds the center of being so much as creative work.

Yesterday I sat in a field of violets for a long time perfectly still, until I really sank into it - into the rhythm of the place, I mean - then when I got up to go home I couldn't walk quickly or evenly because I was still in time with the field.