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

Every spring he vowed to quit teaching school, and every summer he missed his pupils and searched for them on the streets.

Beauty and grace are performed whether or not we sense them.

We are most deeply asleep at the switch when we fancy we control any switches at all.

The universe is illusion merely, not one speck of it real, and we are not only its victims, falling always into or smashed by a planet slung by the sun-but also its captives, bound by the mineral-made ropes of our senses.

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

I am a fugitive and a vagabond, a sojourner seeking signs.