I do not live happily or comfortably With the cleverness of our times. The talk is all about computers, The news is all about bombs and blood. This morning, in the fresh field, I came upon a hidden nest. It held four warm, speckled eggs. I touched them. Then went away softly, Having felt something more wonderful Than all the electricity of New York City.

Every day I see or hear something that more or less kills me with delight, that leaves me like a needle in the haystack of light.

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

Look, hasn't my body already felt like the body of a flower?

Snow was falling, so much like stars filling the dak trees that one could easily imagine its reason for being was nothing more the prettiness.

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

I believe in kindness. Also in mischief. Also in singing, especially when singing is not necessarily prescribed.