It Is The Place Of Renewal And

Poetry Finds Its Perilous Equilibrium Somewhere Between Music And Speech.

I Have Never Written A Book That Was Not Born Out Of A Question I Needed To Answer For Myself.

In The Middle Of The Night, Things Well Up From The Past That Are Not Always Cause For Rejoicing--the Unsolved, The Painful Encounters, The Mistakes, The Reasons For Shame Or Woe. But All, Good Or Bad, Give Me Food For Thought, Food To Grow On.

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

People Are Always Talking About The Joys Of Youth-but, Oh, How Youth Can Suffer!