You must not ever stop being whimsical. And you must not, ever, give anyone else the responsibility for your life.

Maybe the world, without us, is the real poem.

Be good-natured and untidy in your exuberance.

The sea isn't a place but a fact, and a mystery.

The challenge is to keep up with all the new poets at the same time I love the old ones.

Sing, if you can sing, and it not still be musical inside yourself.

Praying It doesn’t have to be the blue iris, it could be weeds in a vacant lot, or a few small stones; just pay attention, then patch a few words together and don’t try to make them elaborate, this isn’t a contest but the doorway into thanks, and a silence in which another voice may speak.