Every phrase and every sentence is an end and a beginning, every poem an epitaph.

And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you I will show you fear in a handful of dust

I should have been a pair of ragged claws/ Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

You do not know how much they mean to me, my friends, And how, how rare and strange it is, to find In a life composed so much, so much of odds and ends, (For indeed I do not love it ... you knew? you are not blind! How keen you are!) To find a friend who has these qualities, Who has, and gives Those qualities upon which friendship lives. How much it means that I say this to you- Without these friendships-life, what cauchemar!

The nightingales are singing near The Convent of the Sacred Heart, And sang within the bloody wood When Agamemnon cried aloud, And let their liquid siftings fall To stain the stiff dishonored shroud.

If we really want to pray we must first learn to listen, for in the silence of the heart God speaks.

In the last few years everything I'd done up to sixty or so has seemed very childish.