The secret is not to write about what you love best, but about what you, alone, love at all.

How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour and with that one, is what we are doing.

The creatures I seek do not want to be seen.

About five years ago I saw a mockingbird make a straight vertical descent from the roof gutter of a four-story building. It was an act as careless and spontaneous as the curl of a stem or the kindling of a star.

We are here to witness. There is nothing else to do with those mute materials we do not need. Until Larry teaches his stone to talk, until God changes his mind, or until the pagan gods slip back to their hilltop groves, all we can do with the whole inhuman array is watch it.

Silence is not our heritage but our destiny; we live where we want to live.

Why do we people in churches seem like cheerful, brainless tourists on a packaged tour of the Absolute?