In The Novel Or The

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?

True Gardeners Cannot Bear A Glove Between The Sure Touch And The Tender Root.

Poetry Has A Way Of Teaching One What One Needs To Know ... If One Is Honest.

Instant Intimacy Was Too Often Followed By Disillusion.

More Than Any Other Beauty (though It Is True Of All Beauty Except In Art) Passion Seems To Me To Have The Seeds Of Its Own Destruction In It.