That is salvation. To give of love inside. To keep love of life, no matter what, and give to others. Generously.

I thought the most beautiful thing in the world must be shadow.

What is so real as the cry of a child? A rabbit's cry may be wilder But it has no soul.

I get into a rut, unable to yank my mind out of it.

That afternoon my mother had brought me the roses. "Save them for my funeral," I'd said.

I wonder why I don't go to bed and go to sleep. But then it would be tomorrow, so I decide that no matter how tired, no matter how incoherent I am, I can skip on hour more of sleep and live.

The claw of the magnolia, drunk on its own scents, asks nothing of life.