Man is not himself only...He is all that he sees; all that flows to him from a thousand sources...He is the land, the lift of its mountain lines, the reach of its valleys.

For all the toll the desert takes of a man it gives compensations, deep breaths, deep sleep, and the communion of the stars.

Genius . . . arises in the natural, aboriginal concern for the conscious unity of all phenomena.

This is the sense of the desert hills, that there is room enough and time enough

Death by starvation is slow.

Nothing the desert produces expresses it better than the unhappy growth of the tree yuccas

As I walk .. as I walk .. / The universe .. is walking with me .. / Beautifully .. it walks before me .... / Beautifully .. on every side .... / As I walk .. I walk with beauty.

Over the tops of it, beginning to dusk under a young white moon, trailed a wavering ghost of smoke, and at the end of it I came upon the Pocket Hunter making a dry camp in the friendly scrub.

What women have to stand on squarely [is] not their ability to see the world in the way men see it, but the importance and validity of their seeing it in some other way.

The manner of the country makes the usage of life there, and the land will not be lived in except in its own fashion.

The real wonder is not that one man should be a genius, but that every man should not be.

She held my face in her hands as if I was the treasure.

My mum's parents were from Ireland, my dad's mum was American-Irish.

Carolyn Maloney has been a consistent fighter for Afghan women but also for International Family Planning Bills.

One thing I feel is this: that a great deal of poetry is the product of adolescence-or of an emotionally adolescent frame of mind: and that as this state of mind changes, poetry is likely to dry up.

Avisitor from Mars contemplating a man in a frock coat and top hat and a woman in a crinoline might well have supposed that they belonged to different species.

My contributions were many: First clown director, with witty sayings and flashily dressed, now called master of ceremonies.

The lazy blogosphere has given up on journalism and now trolls Twitter for their on-the-record in-depth articles.

Everything in moderation, including moderation.

Ah, yes, my social life — a series of encounters where we briefly debate who is in the greater rush.

It is a heretic that makes the fire, Not she which burns in it.