You smile. No, it is not fatal.

We know a thing by its opposite corollary; hot by having experienced cold; good by having decided what is bad; love by hate.

I may never be happy, but tonight I am content. Nothing more than an empty house, the warm hazy weariness from a day spent setting strawberry runners in the sun, a glass of cool sweet milk, and a shallow dish of blueberries bathed in cream. When one is so tired at the end of a day one must sleep, and at the next dawn there are more strawberry runners to set, and so one goes on living, near the earth. At times like this I'd call myself a fool to ask for more.

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

If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell.

One thing, I try to be honest. And what is revealed is often rather hideously unflattering.

I feel that very strongly: having been an academic, having been tempted by the invitation to stay on to become a Ph.D., a professor, and all that, one side of me certainly does respect all disciplines, as long as they don't ossify.