Love, I think, is a gateway to the world, not an escape from it.
And then we ease him out of that worn-out body with a kiss, and he’s gone like a whisper, the easiest breath.
What did you think, that joy / was some slight thing?
…words can help us to see what is graceful or human where lovelines and humanity seem to fail…
My mood settles around me, a wool coat that seems to grow heavier with the months in which I accomplish very little–and then, since the coat is too heavy to allow movement, accomplish nothing at all.
However much grief I carried, I liked the way my life was tending, these bright new directions. It’s only human, to mourn and to reach toward forwardness at once.
A walk is a walk and must be taken; breakfast and dinner come when they are due. The routines of the living are inviolable, no hiatus called on account of misery, spiritual crisis, or awful weather.
You can know an animal – or a person, for that matter – in an instant, really, though your understanding can go on unfolding for years.
Because the golden egg gleamedin my basket once, though my childhoodbecame an immense sheet of darkening waterI was Noah, and I was his ark,and there were two of every animal inside me
And I was cooking for three, and teaching, and taking care of a man who’d just collapsed in my house; learning to cook like June Cleaver didn’t exactly seem an option.