You want to cry aloud for your mistakes. But to tell the truth the world doesn't need any more of that sound.

And it is exceedingly short, his galloping life. Dogs die so soon. I have my stories of that grief, no doubt many of you do also. It is almost a failure of will, a failure of love, to let them grow old-or so it feels. We would do anything to keep them with us, and to keep them young. The one gift we cannot give.

Let me keep my mind on what matters, which is my work, which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.

The three ingredients of poetry: the mystery of the universe, spiritual curiosity, the energy of language.

And who will care, who will chide you if you wander away from wherever you are, to look for your soul?

It is better for the heart to break, than not to break.

Snow was falling, so much like stars filling the dak trees that one could easily imagine its reason for being was nothing more the prettiness.