Also I wanted to be able to love And we all know how that one goes, don't we? Slowly

To find a new word that is accurate and different, you have to be alert for it.

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

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

The world is: fun, and familiar, and healthful, and unbelievably refreshing, and lovely. And it is the theater of the spiritual; it is the multiform utterly obedient to a mystery.

Every word is a messenger. Some have wings; some are filled with fire; some are filled with death.

Let me keep my mind on what matters, which is my work, which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.