We must breathe time as fishes breathe water.

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

We call it "Nature"; only reluctantly admitting ourselves to be "Nature" too.

There's in my mind a... turbulent moon-ridden girl or old woman, or both, dressed in opals and rags, feathers and torn taffeta, who knows strange songs but she is not kind.

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.

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

Peace as a positive condition of society, not merely as an interim between wars, is something so unknown that it casts no images on the mind's screen.