Death is just the last scene of the last act.

My first love was reading, which inspired me to write.

As a farm girl, even when I was quite young, I had my 'farm chores' - but I had time also to be alone, to explore the fields, woods and creek side. And to read.

You cultivate the subconscious by meditation, by sitting in silence and by not trying to control your thoughts. Then go someplace where you haven't been before, or go for a walk, a run, and look for signs of grace-an epiphany, something that comes to you.

I learned long ago that being Lewis Carroll was infinitely more exciting than being Alice.

There are boxers possessed of such remarkable intuition, such uncanny prescience, one would think they were somehow recalling their fights, not fighting them as we watch.

How does the poet transform his banal thoughts (are not most thoughts banal?) into such stunning forms, into beauty?