It Is, I Assume, Quite Easy To

Lunches Are Just Not Good. They Take The Heart Out Of The Day And The Spaciousness From The Morning's Work.

There Is A Proper Balance Between Not Asking Enough Of Oneself And Asking Or Expecting Too Much.

There Is A Wilder Solitude In Winter When Every Sense Is Pricked Alive And Keen.

We Have To Make Myths Of Our Lives, The Point Being That If We Do, Then Every Grief Or Inexplicable Seizure By Weather, Woe, Or Work Can-if We Discipline Ourselves And Think Hard Enough-be Turned To Account, Be Made To Yield Further Insight Into What It Is To Be Alive, To Be A Human Being.

Now I Become Myself. It’s Taken Time, Many Years And Places.