Tom Dancer’s gift of a whitebark pine cone You never know What opportunity Is going to travel to you, Or through you. Once a friend gave me A small pine cone- One of a few He found in the scat Of a grizzly In Utah maybe, Or Wyoming. I took it home And did what I supposed He was sure I would do- I ate it, Thinking How it had traveled Through that rough And holy body. It was crisp and sweet. It was almost a prayer Without words. My gratitude, Tom Dancer, For this gift of the world I adore so much And want to belong to. And thank you too, great bear

Every day I see or hear something that more or less kills me with delight, that leaves me like a needle in the haystack of light.

If you have ever gone into the woods with me, I must love you very much.

It's very important to write things down instantly, or you can lose the way you were thinking out a line. I have a rule that if I wake up at 3 in the morning and think of something, I write it down. I can't wait until morning - it'll be gone.

You must not ever stop being whimsical.

A dog can never tell you what she knows from the smells of the world, but you know, watching her, that you know almost nothing.

I believe in kindness. Also in mischief. Also in singing, especially when singing is not necessarily prescribed.