When I Work I Am Pure As

I Want To Be With People Who Submerge In The Task, Who Go Into The Fields To Harvest And Work In A Row And Pass The Bags Along, Who Are Not Parlor Generals And Field Deserters But Move In A Common Rhythm When The Food Must Come In Or The Fire Be Put Out. The Work Of The World Is Common As Mud. Botched, It Smears The Hands, Crumbles To Dust. But The Thing Worth Doing Well Done Has A Shape That Satisfies, Clean And Evident.

I Don't Find That Writing About Parts Of My Life Had Much Effect Except In Some Cases To Improve My Memory. To Get Into Parts Of The Past I Want To Recall Very Vividly, I Use A Form Of Directed Meditation.

If I Observe My Cats Carefully, It Is Partly Because I Observe Everyone I Deal With As Carefully As I Can And Partly Because They Amuse And Entertain Me. They Are An Important Part Of The Fabric Of My Daily Life.

Love Says, Mine. Love Says, I Could Eat You Up. Love Says, Stay As You Are, Be My Own Private Thing, Don't You Dare Have Ideas I Don't Share. Love Has Just Got To Gobble The Other, Bones And All, Crunch. I Don't Want To Do That. I Sure Don't Want It Done To Me!

The Best Gift You Can Give Is A Hug: One Size Fits All And No One Ever Minds If You Return It.