I feel often very close to the ecstasy and anguish which lie at the very heart of poetry - I am writing a lot.
Inside my mother's death / I lay and could not breathe.
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 price of being oneself is so high and involves so much ruthlessness toward others (or what looks like ruthlessness in our duty-bound culture) that very few people can afford it.
Absence becomes the greatest Presence.