I don't miss teaching. I'm learning to take my time for myself.

I have begun to think of life as a series of ripples widening out from an original center.

The most exhilarating for the writer and the reader, are gift-things-poems which arrive on their own energy, poems that in William Shakespeare's term "slip" from you.

Strange, it is a huge nothing that we fear.

No bit of the natural world is more valuable or more vulnerable than the tree bit. Nothing is more like ourselves, standing upright, caught between heaven and earth, frail at the extremities, yet strong at the central trunk, and nothing is closer to us at the beginning and at the end, providing the timber boards that frame both the cradle and the coffin.

There is risk and truth to yourselves and the world before you.

All I know is a door into the dark