All finite things reveal infinitude: The mountain with its singular bright shade Like the blue shine on freshly frozen snow, The after-light upon ice-burdened pines; Odor of basswood upon a mountain slope, A scene beloved of bees; Silence of water above a sunken tree: The pure serene of memory of one man,- A ripple widening from a single stone Winding around the waters of the world.

So much of adolescence is an ill-defined dying, An intolerable waiting, A longing for another place and time, Another condition.

And I walked, I walked through the light air; I moved with the morning.

Deep in their roots, all flowers keep the light.

Art is the means we have of undoing the damage of haste. It's what everything else isn't.

The self says, I am; The heart says, I am less; The spirit says, you are Nothing.

I came where the river Ran over stones; My ears knew An early joy. And all the waters Of all the streams Sang in my veins That summer day.