When will you have a little pity for every soft thing that walks through the world, yourself included.

I simply do not distinguish between work and play.

I very much wished not to be noticed, and to be left alone, and I sort of succeeded.

You are young. So you know everything. You leap into the boat and begin rowing. But, listen to me. Without fanfare, without embarrassment, without doubt,I talk directly to your soul. Listen to me.

The three ingredients of poetry: the mystery of the universe, spiritual curiosity, the energy of language.

The face of the moose is as sad as the face of Jesus.

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