Sometimes one has simply to endure a period of depression for what it may hold of illumination if one can live through it, attentive to what it exposes or demands.
Self-respect is nothing to hide behind. When you need it most it isn't there.
gardening is a madness, a folly that does not go away with age. Quite the contrary.
Poetry finds its perilous equilibrium somewhere between music and speech.
What can I have that I still want?
“How does one grow up?” I asked a friend the other day. There was a slight pause; then she answered, “By thinking.”