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.

I wish I could find an event that meant as much as simple seeing.

Teach as an old fishing guide takes out a beginner.

Deep in their roots, all flowers keep the light.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?

Time marks us while we are marking time.

You must believe a poem is a holy thing, a good poem, that is.