You have come to the shore. There are no instructions.

The artist must create himself or be born again.

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

The world is not with us enough. O taste and see.

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.

If woman is inconstant, good, I am faithful to ebb and flow, I fall in season and now is a time of ripening.

Let me walk through the fields of paper touching with my wand dry stems and stunted butterflies.