Breathe the sweetness that hovers in August.
There is no savor more sweet, more salt than to be glad to be what, woman, and who, myself, I am.
It is fatal to one's artistic life to talk about something that is in process.
Both art and faith are dependent on imagination; both are ventures into the unknown.
There comes a time when only anger is love.
Writing poetry is a process of discovery...you can smell the poem before you see it....Like some animal.