I simply do not distinguish between work and play.

I feel the terror of idleness, like a red thirst. Death isn't just an idea.

And I do not want anymore to be useful, to be docile, to lead / children out of the fields into the text / of civility, to teach them that they are (they are not) better than the grass.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

I took one look and fell, hook and tumble.

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

... Let us risk the wildest places, Lest we go down in comfort, and despair.