We Are No Longer A Veterinary Clinic

Yes I know: the thread you have to keep finding, over again, to follow it back to life; I know. Impossible, sometimes.

America, you must be born again.

The true harvest of my daily life is somewhat as intangible and indescribable as the tints of morning or evening. It is a little star-dust caught, a segment of the rainbow which I have clutched.

Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is absurd.

I have never tried that before, so I think I should definitely be able to do that.

My life has been the poem I would have writ But I could not both live and utter it.

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.

If you can't go to Heaven, May you die in Ireland

Not under foreign skies protection Or saving wings of alien birth - I was then there - with whole my nation - There, where my nation, alas!, was.

I distrust summaries, any kind of gliding through time, any too great a claim that one is in control of what one recounts; I think someone who claims to understand but is obviously calm, someone who claims to write with emotion recollected in tranquility, is a fool and a liar. To understand is to tremble. To recollect is to re-enter and be riven... I admire the authority of being on one's knees in front of an event.

Nothing forces us to know What we do not want to know Except pain

Everybody wants to build and nobody wants to do maintenance.

Adam had a time, whether long or short, when he could wander about on a fresh and peaceful earth... But poor Eve found him there, with all his claims upon her, the moment she looked into the world.

Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.

Limited in nature, infinite in his desires, man is a fallen god who remembers the heavens.

When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.