If you love a flower, don’t pick it up.” because if you pick it up it dies and it ceases to be what you love. So if you love a flower, let it be. Love is not about possession. Love is about appreciation.

In the rare moments when the self we imagine collides with reality the intensity can be terrifying. Yet that moment can also propel us along a path that we’ve dreamed about our entire lives.

Our disrespect for thinking: someone sitting in a chair, gazing out of a window blankly, always described as ‘doing nothing’.

Whether escaping the mundane or chasing excitement, why do some people talk about their dream to do something anomalous and others actually do it?

and perhaps i could be okay with that. with spending the rest of my life loving a man and raising his children and writing poetry.

We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at sea. We are far too easily pleased.