A Body Without Bones Would

Gardening Is An Instrument Of Grace.

The Ambience Here Is Order And Beauty. That Is What Frightens Me When I Am First Alone Again. I Feel Inadequate. I Have Made An Open Place, A Place For Meditation. What If I Cannot Find Myself Inside It?

Pain Can Make A Whole Winter Bright, Like Fever, Force Us To Live Deep And Hard.

...i Feel More Alive When I'm Writing Than I Do At Any Other Time--except When I'm Making Love. Two Things When You Forget Time, When Nothing Exists Except The Moment--the Moment Of Writing, The Moment Of Love. That Perfect Concentration Is Bliss.

Inside My Mother's Death / I Lay And Could Not Breathe.