No, no the mind I love must still have wild places - a tangled orchard where dark damsons drop in the heavy grass, an overgrown litde wood, the chance of a snake or two (real snakes), a pool that nobody's fathomed the depth of, and paths threaded with those litde flowers planted by the wind.

Why it should be such an effort to write to the people one loves I can't imagine. It's none at all to write to those who don't really count.

You are a Queen. Let mine be the joy of giving you your kingdom.

Can one do nothing for the dead? And for a long time the answer had been - Nothing!

The ostrich burying its head in the sand does at any rate wish to convey the impression that its head is the most important part of it.

Outside the sky is light with stars

Perhaps it does not matter so very much what it is one loves in this world. But love something one must.