Someone loves us all.

And as to experience-well, think how little some good poets have had, or how much some bad ones have.

Sometimes it seemsas though only intelligent people are stupid enough to fall in love & only stupid people are intelligent enough to let themselves be loved.

Someone loves us all.

I HATED the Salinger story. It took me days to go through it, gingerly, a page at a time, and blushing with embarrassment for him every ridiculous sentence of the way. How can they let him do it?

Time to plant tears, says the almanac. The grandmother sings to the marvelous stove and the child draws another inscrutable house.

Heaven is not like flying or swimming, but has something to do with blackness and a strong glare.