I Saw That Worrying Had Come To

What Can We Do But Keep On Breathing In And Out, Modest And Willing, And In Our Places?

It Is The Nature Of Stone To Be Satisfied. It Is The Nature Of Water To Want To Be Somewhere Else.

There Is Only One Question: / How To Love This World.

I Don't Know Exactly What A Prayer Is. I Do Know How To Pay Attention.

The Poet Must Not Only Write The Poem But Must Scrutinize The World Intensely, Or Anyway That Part Of The World He Or She Has Taken For Subject. If The Poem Is Thin, It Is Likely So Not Because The Poet Does Not Know Enough Words, But Because He Or She Has Not Stood Long Enough Among The Flowers--has Not Seen Them In Any Fresh, Exciting, And Valid Way.