“How does one grow up?” I asked a friend the other day. There was a slight pause; then she answered, “By thinking.”

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

In the country of pain we are each alone.

Old age is not an illness, it is a timeless ascent. As power diminishes, we grow toward the light.

Being very rich as far as I am concerned is having a margin. The margin is being able to give.

I feel often very close to the ecstasy and anguish which lie at the very heart of poetry - I am writing a lot.

When we admit our vulnerability, we include others. If we deny it, we shut them out.