Dad is always hiding in his book.

History is the present. That's why every generation writes it anew. But what most people think of as history is its end product, myth.

Time seems to me a drift, a shifting of sand. And my mind is shifting with it. I am wearing away.

Uncharged with invisible meaning, the visible is nothing, mere clay; and without visible circumstance, a territory, to connect to, our spirit is shapeless, nameless, and undefined.

Poems have ideas. The ideas of poems come out of their emotions and their emotions are carried on images.

It proposed that human beings, by the act of making witness, warranted times and places for their existence other than the time and place they were living through.

One of the things I had to learn as a writer was to trust the act of writing. To put myself in the position of writing to find out what I was writing.