It is a feeling that no matter what the ideas or conduct of others, there is a unique rightness and beauty to life which can be shared in openness, in wind and sunlight, with a fellow human being who believes in the same basic principles.

With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone it is dead. But you can't start over with each new second. You have to judge by what is dead. It's like quicksand... hopeless from the start.

Perfection is terrible, it cannot have children.

If I rest, if I think inward, I go mad.

August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.

I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in all directions myself, like the colored arrows from a Fourth of July rocket.

I thought how strange it had never occurred to me before that I was only purely happy until I was nine years old.