I don't ask for the sights in front of me to change, only the depth of my seeing.

Don't we all die someday and someday comes all too soon? What will you do with your own wild, glorious chance at this thing we call life.

I know many lives worth living.

And it is exceedingly short, his galloping life. Dogs die so soon. I have my stories of that grief, no doubt many of you do also. It is almost a failure of will, a failure of love, to let them grow old-or so it feels. We would do anything to keep them with us, and to keep them young. The one gift we cannot give.

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

Today again I am hardly myself. It happens over and over.

And it can keep you as busy as anything else, and happier.