There were times over the years when life was not easy, but if you're working a few hours a day and you've got a good book to read, and you can go outside to the beach and dig for clams, you're okay.

Look, hasn't my body already felt like the body of a flower?

You must not ever stop being whimsical. And you must not, ever, give anyone else the responsibility for your life.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves and call out, Stay awhile.

I don't ask for the sights in front of me to change, only the depth of my seeing.

Every morning I walk like this around the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart ever close, I am as good as dead.

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.