At Sunrise Everything Is Luminous But Not

Eventually, All Things Merge Into One, And A River Runs Through It.

Poets Talk About "spots Of Time", But It Is Really The Fishermen Who Experience Eternity Compressed Into A Moment. No One Can Tell What A Spot Of Time Is Until Suddenly The Whole World Is A Fish And The Fish Is Gone.

When Exhausted And Feeling Sorry For Yourself, At Least Change Your Socks.

All Good Things Come By Grace, And Grace Comes By Art, And Art Does Not Come Easy.

Ahead And To The West Was Our Ranger Station - And The Mountains Of Idaho, Poems Of Geology Stretching Beyond Any Boundaries And Seemingly Even Beyond The World.