...if you do not even understand what words say, how can you expect to pass judgement on what words conceal?

Writing. Love is writing.

The fallen hazel-nuts, Stripped late of their green sheaths, The grapes, red-purple, Their berries Dripping with wine, Pomegranates already broken, And shrunken fig, And quinces untouched, I bring thee as offering.

Dance until the earth dance.

She did not look at the daffodils. They didn't mean anything. She looked at the daffodils. She said, 'Thank you for the daffodils.

Words were her plague and words were her redemption.

...if you do not even understand what words say, how can you expect to pass judgement on what words conceal?