It Is Forbidden To Love Where We

Everyone Is So Different. I Sometimes Wish I Wrote In A Different Way. You Know, That Feeling Of: So-and-so Writes Slowly, If Only I Wrote Slowly.

.. To A Poet, The Human Community Is Like The Community Of Birds To A Bird, Singing To Each Other. Love Is One Of The Reasons We Are Singing To One Another, Love Of Language Itself, Love Of Sound, Love Of Singing Itself, And Love Of The Other Birds.

I Was A Late Bloomer. But Anyone Who Blooms At All, Ever, Is Very Lucky.

A Family Is A Mystery.

Once You Lose Someone It Is Never Exactly The Same Person Who Comes Back.