And I Walked, I Walked Through The

I Teach My Sighs To Lengthen Into Songs.

Those Who Are Willing To Be Vulnerable Move Among Mysteries.

O Lord, May I Never Want To Look Good. O Jesus, May I Always Read It All: Out Loud And The Very Way It Should Be. May I Never Look At The Other Findings Until I Have Come To My Own True Conclusions: May I Care For The Least Of The Young: And Become Aware Of The One Poem That Each May Have Written; May I Be Aware Of What Each Thing Is, Delighted With Form, And Wary Of The False Comparison; May I Never Use The Word "brilliant."

Love Begets Love. This Torment Is My Joy.

The Light Comes Brighter From The East; The Cawof Restive Crows Is Sharper On The Ear.