Most people have to talk so they won't hear.

I am not ready to die, / But I am learning to trust death / As I have trusted life.

So this was fame at last! Nothing but a vast debt to be paid to the world in energy, blood, and time.

Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. Gardening is an instrument of grace.

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.

I can understand people simply fleeing the mountainous effort Christmas has become... but there are always a few saving graces and finally they make up for all the bother and distress.

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