There are no wrong turnings. Only paths we had not known we were meant to walk.

We are the total of our longings.

Lazy poets try to elicit a reader's response with words designed to tug at the heart.

Irritation for some men was their response to strain.

A hard truth: that courage can be without meaning or impact, need not be rewarded, or even known. The world has not been made in that way. Perhaps, however, within the self there might come a resonance, the awareness of having done something difficult, of having done . . . something.

Words were power, words tried to change you, to shape bridges of longing that no one could ever really cross.

A hand fought best when it made a fist.