Let it come, as it will, and don't be afraid. God does not leave us comfortless, so let evening come.

My ear is not working, my poetry ear. I can't write a line that doesn't sound like pots and pans falling out of the cupboard.

If it's darkness we're having, let it be extravagant.

Let it come, as it will, and don't be afraid. God does not leave us comfortless, so let evening come.

There's just no accounting for happiness, or the way it turns up like a prodigal who comes back to the dust at your feet having squandered a fortune far away.

The soul's bliss and suffering are bound together.

Everyone longs for love's tense joys and red delights.