It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw, But rather a garden forever in bloom and a flock of angels forever in flight.

As the strings of a lute are apart though they quiver the same music.

The feelings we live through in love and in loneliness are simply, for us, what high tide and low tide are to the sea.

Your house is your larger body. It grows in the sun and sleeps in the stillness of the night; and it is not dreamless. Does not your house dream, and dreaming, leave the city for grove or hilltop?

The most wonderful thing, Mary, is that you and I are always walking together, hand in hand, in a strangely beautiful world, unknown to other people. We both stretch one hand to receive from Life - and Life is generous indeed.

It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands.

It is only when you are pursued that you become swift.