You Can Spin Stories Out Of The

Was Everyone Else Really As Alive As She Was?...if The Answer Was Yes, Then The World, The Social World, Was Unbearably Complicated, With Two Billion Voices, And Everyone's Thoughts Striving In Equal Importance And Everyone's Claim On Life As Intense, And Everyone Thinking They Were Unique, When No One Was.

Nothing That Can Be, Can Come Between Me And The Full Prospect Of My Hopes.

Above All, She Wanted To Look As Though She Had Not Given The Matter A Moment's Thought, And That Would Take Time.

Without A Revolution Of The Inner Life, However Slow, All Our Big Designs Are Worthless. The Work We Have To Do Is With Ourselves If We're Ever Going To Be At Peace With Each Other...the Good That Flows From It Will Shape Our Societies In An Unprogrammed, Unforeseen Way, Under The Control Of No Single Group Of People Or Set Of Ideas.

What Is It Precisely, That Feeling Of 'returning' From A Poem? Something Is Lighter, Softer, Larger - Then It Fades, But Never Completely.