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.

I simply do not distinguish between work and play.

Isn’t it wonderful the way the world holds both the deeply serious, and the unexpectedly mirthful?

Because of the dog’s joyfulness, our own is increased. It is no small gift.

Though I play at the edges of knowing, truly I know our part is not knowing, but looking, and touching, and loving

I don't know lots of things but I know this: next year when spring flows over the starting point I'll think I'm going to drown in the shimmering miles of it.

On poetry: Everyone wants to know what it means. But nobody is asking, How does it feel?