I want to apologize for plaguing you with so many telephone calls last November and December. When the 'enthusiasm' is coming on me it is accompanied by a feverish reaching out to my friends. After its over I wince and wither.

The Lord survives the rainbow of His will.

The world is absolutely out of control now and is not going to be saved by any reason or unreason.

Pity the planet, all joy gone from this sweet volcanic cone; peace to our children when they fall in small war on the heel of small war--until the end of time to police the earth, a ghost orbiting forever lost in our monotonous sublime

September twenty-second, Sir, the bough cracks with unpicked apples, and at dawn the small-mouth bass breaks water, gorged with spawn.

Everywhere, giant finned cars nose forward like fish; a savage servility slides by on grease.

If youth is a defect, it is one we outgrow too soon.