Religion used to be the opium of the people. To those suffering humiliation, pain, illness, and serfdom, religion promised the reward of an after life. But now, we are witnessing a transformation, a true opium of the people is the belief in nothingness after death, the huge solace, the huge comfort of thinking that for our betrayals, our greed, our cowardice, our murders, we are not going to be judged.

What is poetry which does not save nations or people?

A day so happy. Fog lifted early. I worked in the garden. Hummingbirds were stopping over honeysuckle flowers. There was no thing on earth I wanted to possess. I know no one worth my envying him.

Learning To believe you are magnificent. And gradually to discover that you are not magnificent. Enough labor for one human life.

It is sweet to think I was a companion in an expedition that never ends

In a room where people unanimously maintain a conspiracy of silence, one word of truth sounds like a pistol shot.

Not that I want to be a god or a hero. Just to change into a tree, grow for ages, not hurt anyone.