I saw that worrying had come to nothing and gave it up. And took my old body and went out into the morning, and sang.

I very much wished not to be noticed, and to be left alone, and I sort of succeeded.

My first two books are out of print and, okay, they can sleep there comfortably. It's early work, derivative work.

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

Attention is the beginning of devotion.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

So come to the pond, or the river of your imagination, or the harbor of your longing, and put your lips to the world. And live your life.