Communication with another person -- wasn't it the realest thing in life?

My father taught me that a bill is like a crying baby and has to be attended to at once.

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

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.

... not only is life put in new patterns from the air, but it is somehow arrested, frozen into form. (The leaping hare is caught in a marble panel.) A glaze is put over life. There is no flaw, no crack in the surface; a still reservoir, no ripple on its face. Looking down from the air that morning, I felt that stillness rested like a light over the earth. The waterfalls seemed frozen solid; the tops of the trees were still; the river hardly stirred, a serpent gently moving under its shimmering skin.

Fame separates you from life.

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