Attention Is The Beginning Of Devotion.

And Now My Old Dog Is Dead, And Another I Had After Him, And My Parents Are Dead, And That First World, That Old House, Is Sold And Lost, And The Books I Gathered There Lost, Or Sold- But More Books Bought, And In Another Place, Board By Board And Stone By Stone, Like A House, A True Life Built, And All Because I Was Steadfast About One Or Two Things: Loving Foxes, And Poems, The Blank Piece Of Paper, And My Own Energy- And Mostly The Shimmering Shoulders Of The World That Shrug Carelessly Over The Fate Of Any Individual That They May, The Better, Keep The Niles And Amazons Flowing.

Poetry Is A Life-cherishing Force.

Keep Some Room In Your Heart For The Unimaginable.

For Some Things There Are No Wrong Seasons. Which Is What I Dream Of For Me.

The End Of Life Has Its Own Nature, Also Worth Our Attention.