When addressed, a Gentleman Cat does not move a muscle. He looks as if he hasn't heard.

I believe that children long for form just as grownups do, and that it releases rather than cramps creative energy.

Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is the richness of self.

There the door is always open into the “holy” — growth, birth, death.

The creative person, the person who moves from an irrational source of power, has to face the fact that this power antagonizes. Under all the superficial praise of the creative is the desire to kill. It is the old war between the mystic and the nonmystic, a war to the death.

It is the place of renewal and of safety, where for a little while there will be no harm or attack and, while every sense is nourished, the soul rests.

I cannot understand why poetry is not taught at schools as a way of seeing, a quick, untiring path to essentials.