Love, like truth, is the unassailable defense.

Complexity excites the mind, and order rewards it. In the garden, one finds both, including vanishingly small orders too complex to spot, and orders so vast the mind struggles to embrace them.

For the longest time I didn't realize I was creative - I just thought I was strange.

And yet, words are the passkeys to our souls. Without them, we can't really share the enormity of our lives.

... love is an act of sedition, a revolt against reason, an uprising in the body politic, a private mutiny.

I'm certainly not opposed to digital technology, whose graces I daily enjoy and rely on in so many ways. But I worry about our virtual blinders.

For me, life offers so many complexly appealing moments that two beautiful objects may be equally beautiful for different reasons and at different times. How can one choose?