I learn by going where I have to go.
Should we say the self, once perceived, becomes the soul?
I wish I could find an event that meant as much as simple seeing.
I am overwhelmed by the beautiful disorder of poetry, the eternal virginity of words.
Any fool can take a bad line out of a poem; it takes a real pro to throw out a good line.
The fields stretch out in long unbroken rows. We walk aware of what is far and close. Here distance is familiar as a friend. The feud we kept with space comes to an end.