The Price Of Being Oneself Is So

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?

For Art Is Order, But It Is Born Out Of The Chaos Of Life.

Poetry Finds Its Perilous Equilibrium Somewhere Between Music And Speech.

Do We Always Make Our Freedom Out Of Someone Else's Bondage?

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