The sea pronounces something, over and over, in a hoarse whisper; I cannot quite make it out.

It is difficult to undo our own damage, and to recall to our presence that which we have asked to leave. It is hard to desecrate a grove and change your mind. The very holy mountains are keeping mum. We doused the burning bush and cannot rekindle it; we are lighting matches in vain under every green tree.

Evolution loves death more than it loves you or me. This is easy to write, easy to read, and hard to believe.

I saw in a blue haze all the world poured flat and pale between the mountains

It's a little silly to finally learn how to write at this age. But I long ago realized I was secretly sincere.

The point of the dragonfly's terrible lip, the giant water bug, birdsong, or the beautiful dazzle and flash of sunlighted minnows,is not that it all fits together like clockwork--for it doesn'tbut that it all flows so freely wild, like the creek, that it all surges in such a free, finged tangle. Freedom is the world's water and weather, the world's nourishment freely given, its soil and sap: and the creator loves pizzazz.

Every day is a god, each day is a god, and holiness holds forth in time.