I cannot believe that the inscrutable universe turns on an axis of suffering; surely the strange beauty of the world must somewhere rest on pure joy!

The Initial Mystery that attends any journey is: how did the traveler reach his starting point in the first place?

No more pronouncements on lousy verse. No more hidden competition. No more struggling not to be a square.

I'll lie here and learn How, over their ground, Trees make a long shadow And a light sound.

The measured blood beats out the year's delay.

...in a time lacking in truth and certainty and filled with anguish and despair, no woman should be shamefaced in attempting to give back to the world, through her work, a portion of its lost heart.

At midnight tears Run into your ears.