But we have only begun to love the earth. We have only begun to imagine the fullness of life. How could we tire of hope?-so much is in bud.

There is no savor more sweet, more salt than to be glad to be what, woman, and who, myself, I am.

Teachers at all levels encourage the idea that you have to talk about things in order to understand them, because they wouldn't have jobs, otherwise. But it's phony, you know.

But we have only begun to love the earth. We have only begun to imagine the fullness of life. How could we tire of hope?-so much is in bud.

But for us the road unfurls itself, we don't stop walking, we know there is far to go.

The fire in leaf and grass so green it seems each summer the last summer.

Both art and faith are dependent on imagination; both are ventures into the unknown.