Because we can't escape our ancient hunger to live close to nature, we encircle the house with lawns and gardens, install picture windows, adopt pets and Boston ferns, and scent everything that touches our lives.

poetry had everything to teach me about life.

Mystery causes a mental itch, which the brain tries to soothe with the balm of reasonable talk.

What an odd, ruminating, noisy, self-interrupting conversation we conduct with ourselves from birth to death.

Smell brings to mind... a family dinner of pot roast and sweet potatoes during a myrtle-mad August in a Midwestern town. Smells detonate softly in our memory like poignant land mines hidden under the weedy mass of years.

Violets smell like burnt sugar cubes that have been dipped in lemon and velvet.

Don't just live the length of your life - live the width of it as well.