I come down to the water to cool my eyes. But everywhere I look I see fire; that which isn't flint is tinder, and the whole world sparks and flames.

Books swept me away, this way and that, one after the other; I made endless vows according to their lights for I believed them.

The Pulitzer is more useful than meaningful.

Why are we reading, if not in hope of beauty laid bare, life heightened and its deepest mystery probed?

You empty yourself and wait, listening. After a time you hear it: There is nothing there...You feel the world's word as a tension, a hum, a single chorused note everywhere the same. This is it: This hum is the silence.

I wake expectant, hoping to see a new thing.

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