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.

Do you cherish your humble and silky life?

And now you'll be telling stories of my coming back and they won't be false, and they won't be true but they'll be real

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

Still, what I want in my life is to be willing to be dazzled---to cast aside the weight of facts and maybe even to float a little above this difficult world.

If I've done my work well, I vanish completely from the scene. I believe it is invasive of the work when you know too much about the writer.

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