The Soul Has Many Motions, Body One.

Death Was Not. I Lived In A Simple Drowse:hands And Hair Moved Through A Dream Of Wakening Blossoms.rain Sweetened The Cave And The Dove Still Called;the Flowers Leaned On Themselves, The Flowers In Hollows;and Love, Love Sang Toward.

Love Begets Love. This Torment Is My Joy.

What's Important? That Which Is Dug Out Of Books, Or Out Of The Guts?

I Wake To Sleep, And Take My Waking Slow. I Feel My Fate In What I Cannot Fear. I Learn By Going Where I Have To Go.

A Mind Too Active Is No Mind At All.