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.

I want a singleness of eye, a purity of intention, a central core to my life that will enable me to carry out these obligations and activities as well as I can.

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

I think best with a pencil in my hand.

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

Why do progress and beauty have to be so opposed?

In the sheltered simplicity of the first days after a baby is born, one sees again the magical closed circle, the miraculous sense of two people existing only for each other.