So this was fame at last! Nothing but a vast debt to be paid to the world in energy, blood, and time.
True gardeners cannot bear a glove Between the sure touch and the tender root.
It feels a long way up and down from zero.
People who cannot feel punish those who do.
I feel like an inadequate machine, a machine that breaks down at crucial moments, grinds to a dreadful hault, 'won't go,' or, even worse, explodes in some innocent person's face.
Words are my passion / And out of them and me / I would create beauty.