A wind has blown the rain away and blown the sky away and all the leaves away, and the trees stand. I think, I too, have known autumn too long.

A world of made is not a world of born

A wind has blown the rain away and blown the sky away and all the leaves away, and the trees stand. I think, I too, have known autumn too long.

For surely as each November has its April, mysteries only are significant; and one mystery-of-mysteries creates them all: nothing false and possible is love (who's imagined,therefore limitless) love's to giving as to keeping's give; as yes is to if,love is to yes

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you

Unless you love someone, nothing else makes any sense.

I'm living so far beyond my income that we may almost be said to be living apart.