There are a hundred paths through the world that are easier than loving. But who wants easier?

Let me keep my distance, always, from those who think they have the answers. Let me keep company always with those who say “Look!” and laugh in astonishment, and bow their heads. (from “Mysteries, Yes”)

After a cruel childhood, one must reinvent oneself. Then reimagine the world.

Today again I am hardly myself. It happens over and over.

Poetry isn't a profession, it's a way of life. It's an empty basket; you put your life into it and make something out of that.

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

I know I can walk through the world, along the shore or under the trees, with my mind filled with things of little importance, in full self-attendance. A condition I can't really call being alive.