I stood willingly and gladly in the characters of everything - other people, trees, clouds. And this is what I learned, that the world's otherness is antidote to confusion - that standing within this otherness - the beauty and the mystery of the world, out in the fields or deep inside books - can re-dignify the worst-stung heart.

Joy is not made to be a crumb. (Don't Hesitate)

There is only one question: / how to love this world.

The sea can do craziness, it can do smooth, it can lie down like silk breathing or toss havoc shoreward; it can give gifts or withhold all; it can rise, ebb, froth like an incoming frenzy of fountains, or it can sweet-talk entirely. As I can too, and so, no doubt, can you, and you.

Sing, if you can sing, and it not still be musical inside yourself.

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

The challenge is to keep up with all the new poets at the same time I love the old ones.