The love of nature is a passion for those in whom it once lodges. It can never be quenched. It cannot change. It is a furious, burning, physical greed, as well as a state of mystical exaltation. It will have its own.

She had for so many years been trying to be like other people, that she was now like nothing in heaven or earth.

Autumn is full of leave-taking.

To many women marriage is only this. It is merely a physical change impinging on their ordinary nature, leaving their mentality untouched, their self-possession intact. They are not burnt by even the red fire of physical passion - far less by the white fire of love.

If you know much about your work - why you work, how you work, your aims - you are probably not a poet.

It's the folks that depend on us for this and for the other that we most do miss.

Every time I meet a tree, if I am truly awake, I stand in awe before it. I listen to its voice, a silent sermon moving me to the depths, touching my heart, and stirring up within my soul a yearning to give my all.