To Mention A Loved Object, A Person,

The Fundamental Magic Of Flying, A Miracle That Has Nothing To Do With Any Of Its Practical Purposes - Purposes Of Speed, Accessibility, And Convenience - And Will Not Change As They Change.

Those Fields Of Daisies We Landed On, And Dusty Fields And Desert Stretches. Memories Of Many Skies And Earths Beneath Us - Many Days, Many Nights Of Stars.

It Is Nice To Think How One Can Be Recklessly Lost In A Daisy!

I Believe That True Identity Is Found . . . In Creative Activity Springing From Within. It Is Found, Paradoxically, When One Loses Oneself. Woman Can Best Refind Herself In Some Kind Of Creative Activity Of Her Own.

I Think Best With A Pencil In My Hand.