Lost Time Is Like A Run In

Perhaps Middle-age Is, Or Should Be, A Period Of Shedding Shells; The Shell Of Ambition, The Shell Of Material Accumulations And Possessions, The Shell Of The Ego.

Only Love Can Be Divided Endlessly And Still Not Diminish.

One Learns First Of All In Beach Living The Art Of Shedding; How Little One Can Get Along With, Not How Much.

The Web Of Marriage Is Made By Propinquity, In The Day To Day Living Side By Side, Looking Outward In The Same Direction. It Is Woven In Space And In Time Of The Substance Of Life Itself.

When I Cannot Write A Poem, I Bake Biscuits And Feel Just As Pleased.