There are those fortunate hours when the world consents to be made into a poem.

Love, I think, is a gateway to the world, not an escape from it.

Even sad stories are company. And perhaps that's why you might read such a chronicle, to look into a companionable darkness that isn't yours.

No such thing, the queen said, as too many sequins.

We long to connect; we fear that if we do, our freedom and individuality will disappear.

One ambition of poetry, certainly, is to create a reverberant silence in its wake, one that means more or differently than the silence that preceded the poem.

The World Will Break Your Heart. Grief might be, in some ways, the long aftermath of love, the internal work of knowing, holding, more fully valuing what we have lost.

What did you think, that joy / was some slight thing?

We love disasters that have nothing to do with us

Because the golden egg gleamed in my basket once, though my childhood became an immense sheet of darkening water I was Noah, and I was his ark, and there were two of every animal inside me

To choose to live with a dog is to agree to participate in a long process of interpretation, a mutual agreement though the human being holds most of the cards.

If it meant brighter stars, she would follow God into the darkness.

I walk alone and on my own.

Your spirit needs self-love like the body needs oxygen.

You should have no fear from dying because it's there no matter what.

God listens to our weeping when the occasion itself is beyond our knowledge but still within His love and power.

The problem with digital architecture is that an algorithm can produce endless variations, so an architect has many choices.

A great thing happening now in art is that artists are using the figure, the body, clothing, life.

I am I plus my surroundings; and if I do not preserve the latter, I do not preserve myself.

Your life will never improve unless you start making daily improvements.

I was wishing I'd bought some of that Camp Half Blood orange thermal underwear..." ?!?!