. . . On a sandbarsunlight stretches out its limbs, or is ita sycamore, so brazen, so clean and bold?

Keep a journal, and don’t assume that your work has to accomplish anything worthy: artists and peace-workers are in it for the long haul, and not to be judged by immediate results.

I keep following this sort of hidden river of my life, you know, whatever the topic or impulse which comes, I follow it along trustingly. And I don’t have any sense of its coming to...

An owl sound wandered along the road with me.I didn’t hear it–I breathed it into my ears.

They miss the whisper that runsany day in your mind,”Who are you really, wanderer?”–and the answer you have to giveno matter how dark and coldthe world around you is:”Maybe I’m a king.

Between roars the lion purrs.

Wisdom is having things right in your lifeand knowing why.

There may be losses too great to understandThat rove after you and–faint and terrible– rip unknown through your hand.

…What you fear will not go away; it will take you into yourself and bless you and keep you. That’s the world, and we all live there.

Evening came, a paw, to the gray hut by the river.

A writer is not so much someone who has something to say as he is someone who has found a process that will bring about new things he would not have thought of if he...

When a goat likes a book, the whole book is gone,and the meaning has to go find an author again.- The Trouble With Reading

The Way It IsThere’s a thread you follow. It goes amongthings that change. But it doesn’t change.People wonder about what you are pursuing.You have to explain about the thread.But it is hard for others to...

Why I Am HappyNow has come, an easy time. I let it roll. There is a lake somewhere so blue and far nobody owns it. A wind comes by and a willow listens gracefully. I...

I heard a bird congratulating itselfall day for being a jay.Nobody cared. But it was gladall over again, and said so, again.

Once you decide to do right, life is easy, there are no distractions.

This dream the world is having about itselfincludes a trace on the plains of the Oregon trail,a groove in the grass my father showed us allone day while meadowlarks were trying to tellsomething better about...

Reluctant hero, drafted again each Fourthof July, I’ll bow and remember you. Whoshall we follow next? Who shall we killnext time?

If you don’t know the kind of person I amand I don’t know the kind of person you area pattern that others made may prevail in the worldand following the wrong god home we may...

So, the world happens twice–once what we see it as;second it legends itselfdeep, the way it is.

Literature is not a picture of life, but is a separate experience with its own kind of flow and enhancement.

Kids: they dance before they learn there is anything that isn’t music