We Make The Path By Walking.

You Have An Utterly Sincere Glance When You Look Around After You Are Shipwrecked. You Weep A Long Time On An Island When You Realize What's Happened To You.

When Anyone Seriously Pursues An Art - Painting, Poetry, Sculpture, Composing - Over Twenty Or Thirty Years, The Sustained Discipline Carries The Artist Down To The Countryside Of Grief, And That Descent, Resisted So Long Proves Invigorating. . . . As I've Gotten Older, I Find I Am Able To Be Nourished More By Sorrow And To Distinguish It From Depression.

Before I Was A Parent I Was Struck By Rilke, Who, As You Know, Didn't Go To His Daughter's Wedding Because He Was Writing A Poem That Day. That Was The Ideal For Artistic Behavior In 1950. That's The Way I Wanted To Live.

You Say To Yourself, Well, This Poem Isn't Going To Be Any Good, But I'll Write It Anyway.

If You Want The Truth, I Will Tell You The Truth: Friend, Listen: The God Whom I Love Is Inside.