I hoard books. They are people who do not leave.
Well, one gets out of bed and the planets don't always hiss or muck up the day, each day.
When I'm writing, I know I'm doing the thing I was born to do.
Even so, I must admire your skill. You are so gracefully insane.
The snow has quietness in it; no songs, no smells, no shouts or traffic. When I speak my own voice shocks me.
I cannot walk an inch / without trying to walk to God.