Teach me, like you, to drink creation whole/ And casting out myself, become a soul.
Odd that a thing is most itself when likened
Composition for me is, externally at least, scarcely distinguishable from catatonia.
The strength of the genie comes from being in a bottle.
There is a poignancy in all things clear, In the stare of the deer, in the ring of a hammer in the morning. Seeing a bucket of perfectly lucid water We fall to imagining prodigious honesties.
The eye is pleased when nature stoops to art.