I wanted to hurry into the work of my life; I wanted to know, whoever I was, I was alive for a little while.

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

When it's over I don't want to wonder if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

I GO DOWN TO THE SHORE I go down to the shore in the morning and depending on the hour the waves are rolling in or moving out, and I say, oh, I am miserable, what shall— what should I do? And the sea says in its lovely voice: Excuse me, I have work to do.

The dream of my life is to lie down by a slow river and stare at the light in the trees - to learn something by being nothing