Why should I not sit, every morning of my life, on the hillside, looking into the shining world?

The god of dirt came up to me many times and said so many wise and delectable things, I lay on the grass listening to his dog voice, frog voice; now, he said, and now, and never once mentioned forever from, One or Two Things

What can we do about God, who makes and then breaks every god-forsaken, beautiful day?

Be good-natured and untidy in your exuberance.

It's not a competition, it's a doorway.

When When it’s over, it’s over, and we don’t know any of us, what happens then. So I try not to miss anything. I think, in my whole life, I have never missed The full moon or the slipper of its coming back. Or, a kiss. Well, yes, especially a kiss.

... the natural world is the old river that runs through everything, and I think poets will forever fish along its shores.