I would like to believe when I die that I have given myself away like a tree that sows seed every spring and never counts the loss, because it is not loss, it is adding to future life. It is the tree's way of being. Strongly rooted perhaps, but spilling out its treasure on the wind.

a poet never feels useful.

It is curious how any making of order makes one feel mentally ordered, ordered inside.

When you change the way you look at a thing, the thing itself changes...By mastering feelings, she had come to understand the meaning of discipline and its reward: freedom and power.

Without darkness, nothing comes to birth, As without light, nothing flowers.

In the novel or the journal you get the journey. In a poem you get the arrival.

When addressed, a Gentleman Cat does not move a muscle. He looks as if he hasn't heard.