In the garden the door is always open into the "holy" - growth, birth, death. Every flower holds the whole mystery in its short cycle, and in the garden we are never far away from death, the fertilizing, good, creative death.

I am not a greedy person except about flowers and plants, and then I become fanatically greedy.

The more articulate one is, the more dangerous words become.

have the courage to write whatever your dream is for yourself.

Unless the gentle inherit the earth, / There will be no earth.

I can tell you that solitude Is not all exaltation, inner space Where the soul breathes and work can be done. Solitude exposes the nerve, Raises up ghosts. The past, never at rest, flows through it.

The gift turned inward, unable to be given, becomes a heavy burden, even sometimes a kind of poison. It is as though the flow of life were backed up.