There is a notion that creative people are absent-minded, reckless, heedless of social customs and obligations. It is, hopefully, true for they are in another world altogether.

And now I understand something so frightening &wonderful- how the mind clings to the road it knows, rushing through crossroads, sticking like lint to the familiar.

Of course! The path to heaven doesn't lie down in flat miles. It's in the imagination with which you perceive this world, and the gestures with which you honor it.

... the natural world is the old river that runs through everything, and I think poets will forever fish along its shores.

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

Sometimes I need only to stand wherever I am to be blessed.

I took one look and fell, hook and tumble.