The deepest experience of the creator is feminine, for it is experience of receiving and bearing.

Love and death are the great gifts that are given to us; mostly they are passed on unopened.

I am the rest between two notes which are somehow always in discord.

There is time only to work slowly There is no time not to love

We make our way through Everything like thread passing through fabric, giving shape to images that we ourselves do not know.

My blood is alive with many voices telling me I am made of longing.

I don’t want to stand before you like a thing, shrewd, secretive. I want my own will, and I want simply to be with my will, as it goes toward action. And in the silent, sometimes hardly moving times, when something is coming near, I want to be with those who know secret things or else alone. I want to unfold. I don’t want to be folded anywhere, because where I am folded, there I am a lie.