I grew up in a sad, depressed place. I got out. Poetry saved my life.

All culture developed as some wild, raw creature strived to live better and longer.

The three ingredients of poetry: the mystery of the universe, spiritual curiosity, the energy of language.

I think one thing is that prayer has become more useful, interesting, fruitful, and... almost involuntary in my life.

The face of the moose is as sad as the face of Jesus.

Who knows what will happen or where I will be sent, yet already I have given a great many things away, expecting to be told to pack nothing, except the prayers which, with this thirst, I am slowly learning.

I got saved by poetry. And I got saved by the beauty of the world.