A Real Friendship Is A Light Thing.

Life Can Only Be Kept By Giving It Away. But Then It Will Bloom.

I Could Run Nearly Naked On A Hot, Windy Beach And Plunge Without Care Into A Running Diamond Sea; Roll On The Sand And Fling My Arms Wide To The Sun And Still Be What I Was...young.

I Think Every Creative Impulse That A Working Writer, Or Artist Of Any Sort Has, Comes Out Of That Dark Old Country Where Dreams Come From.

I Think We All Get Too Caught Up In Doing Instead Of Just Being Sometimes.

Walter Loves The Sea, And I Need It In Some Elemental Way That I Cannot Even Come Close To Verbalizing. I Become Dim And Shriveled Somehow At My Very Core If I Am Away From The Sea Too Long. When I Return To It I Seem To Fill Up And Overflow With It, Soaking In The Vast, Sighing Wetness Of It Like A Parched Vine In A Long, Soft Spring Rain.