I came to the conclusion that unrealized hopes, even small ones, were always wrenching.
In every house of marriage there's room for an interpreter.
The universe is a continuous web. Touch it at any point and the whole web quivers.
I can hardly wait for tomorrow, it means a new life for me each and every day.
When you look back on a lifetime and think of what has been given to the world by your presence, your fugitive presence, inevitably you think of your art, whatever it may be, as the gift you have made to the world in acknowledgment of the gift you have been given, which is the life itself. . . That work is not an expression of the desire for praise or recognition, or prizes, but the deepest manifestation of your gratitiude for the gift of life.
Be what you are. Give What is yours to give. Have Style. Dare.
The poem comes in the form of a blessing, like rapture breaking on the mind.
I'm not a very organized person for being uber work-obsessed. I struggle to keep it all organized because everything can become important and, when you have so many spinning plates, they sometimes can cancel each other out because you lose track of everything.
When your attention moves into the Now, there is an alertness. It is as if you were waking up from a dream, the dream of thought, the dream of past and future. Such clarity, such simplicity. No room for problem-making. Just this moment as it is.
In your daytime life you have to be more strict.
It was strange, how readily authority could be conjured with nothing but a bit of strutting jackassery.