We can love completely what we cannot completely understand.

Help is giving part of yourself to somebody who comes to accept it willingly and needs it badly.

At sunrise everything is luminous but not clear.

Ahead and to the west was our ranger station - and the mountains of Idaho, poems of geology stretching beyond any boundaries and seemingly even beyond the world.

So it is that we can seldom help anybody. Either we don't know what part to give or maybe we don't like to give any part of ourselves. Then, more often than not, the part that is needed is not wanted. And even more often, we do not have the part that is needed.

At the time I did not know that stories of life are often more like rivers than books.

It is those we live with and love and should know who elude us.