I Feel The Terror Of Idleness, Like

Sometimes I Spend All Day Trying To Count The Leaves On A Single Tree... Of Course I Have To Give Up, But By Then I'm Half Crazy With The Wonder Of It--the Abundance Of The Leaves, The Quietness Of The Branches, The Hopelessness Of My Effort. And I Am In That Delicious And Important Place, Roaring With Laughter, Full Of Earth-praise.

You Only Have To Let The Soft Animal Of Your Body Love What It Loves.

Why Should I Not Sit, Every Morning Of My Life, On The Hillside, Looking Into The Shining World?

I Took One Look And Fell, Hook And Tumble.

I Know I Can Walk Through The World, Along The Shore Or Under The Trees, With My Mind Filled With Things Of Little Importance, In Full Self-attendance. A Condition I Can't Really Call Being Alive.