When you come to a place where you have to left or right, go straight ahead.

Traversing a slow page, to come upon a lode of the pure shining metal is to exult inwardly for greedy hours.

I am learning to see loneliness as a seed that, when planted deep enough, can grow into writing that goes back out into the world.

But in order to have an adult faith, most of us have to outgrow and unlearn much of what we were taught about religion.

I wonder if children don't begin to reject both poetry and religion for similar reasons, because the way both are taught takes the life out of them.

When you are unhappy, is there anything more maddening than to be told that you should be contented with your lot?

It's all so beautiful . . . the spring . . . and books and music and fires. . . . Why aren't they enough?