Listen--are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?

The sweetness of dogs (fifteen) What do you say, Percy? I am thinking of sitting out on the sand to watch the moon rise. Full tonight. So we go and the moon rises, so beautiful it makes me shudder, makes me think about time and space, makes me take measure of myself: one iota pondering heaven. Thus we sit, I thinking how grateful I am for the moon’s perfect beauty and also, oh! How rich it is to love the world. Percy, meanwhile, leans against me and gazes up into my face. As though I were his perfect moon.

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

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

It is what I was born for - to look, to listen, to lose myself inside this soft world - to instruct myself over and over.

To find a new word that is accurate and different, you have to be alert for it.

Do you love this world? Do you cherish your humble and silky life? Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?