Is it perhaps the one necessity of love, that it be needed? And the one great human tragedy that it so rarely is?

all great people are humble because great people have great work and are humbled by the largeness of their dreams.

I feel happy to be keeping a journal again. I've missed it, missed naming things as they appear, missed the half hour when I push all duties aside and savor the experience of being alive in this beautiful place.

The minute one utters a certainty, the opposite comes to mind.

I think that passion if really intense is always destructive if not to the two involved, always to other people.

The gift turned inward, unable to be given, becomes a heavy burden, even sometimes a kind of poison. It is as though the flow of life were backed up.

So let the world go, but hold fast to joy.