we are never done with thinking about our parents, I suppose, and come to know them better long after they are dead than we ever did when they were alive.
When we admit our vulnerability, we include others. If we deny it, we shut them out.
Routine is not a prison, but the way into freedom from time.
For inside all the weakness of old age, the spirit, God knows, is as mercurial as it ever was.
When addressed, a Gentleman Cat does not move a muscle. He looks as if he hasn't heard.
Poetry is a dangerous profession between conflict and resolution, between feeling and thought, between becoming and being, between the ultra-personal and the universal - and these balances are shifting all the time.