Two Buckets Were Easier Carried Than One.

Part Of My Gradual Education Of Myself Has Been To Think That There Is A Deep Relationship Between The Nature Of The Creature And The Worth Of The Art.

The Gift Of Writing Is To Be Self-forgetful...

I Have Begun To Think Of Life As A Series Of Ripples Widening Out From An Original Center.

I Credit Poetry For Making This Space-walk Possible.

No Bit Of The Natural World Is More Valuable Or More Vulnerable Than The Tree Bit. Nothing Is More Like Ourselves, Standing Upright, Caught Between Heaven And Earth, Frail At The Extremities, Yet Strong At The Central Trunk, And Nothing Is Closer To Us At The Beginning And At The End, Providing The Timber Boards That Frame Both The Cradle And The Coffin.