“Reading is the work of the alert mind, is demanding, and under ideal conditions produces finally a sort of ecstasy.”

A good farmer is nothing more nor less than a handy man with a sense of humus.

Use the smallest word that does the job.

Writing is hard work and bad for the health.

Is there anything in the universe more beautiful and protective than the simple complexity of a spider’s web?

A poem compresses much in a small space and adds music, thus heightening its meaning.

Early summer days are a jubilee time for birds. In the fields, around the house, in the barn, in the woods, in the swamp – everywhere love and songs and nests and eggs.

A poet’s pleasure is to withhold a little of his meaning, to intensify by mystification. He unzips the veil from beauty, but does not remove it.

The best writing is rewriting.

Geese are friends to no one, they bad mouth everybody and everything. But they are companionable once you get used to their ingratitude and false accusations.

It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer.

I believe in dreams. People should have faith in the songs poets sing.

English usage is sometimes more than mere taste, judgment and education – sometimes it’s sheer luck, like getting across the street.

When an American family becomes separated from its toothbrushes and combs and pajamas for a few hours it considers that it has had quite an adventure.

I don’t know which is more discouraging, literature or chickens.

In a man’s middle years there is scarcely a part of the body he would hesitate to turn over to the proper authorities.

Safety is all well and good: I prefer freedom.

Yet you must not cling to the words of the old sages either; they, too, may not be right. Even if you believe them, you should be alert so that, in the event that something superior comes along, you may follow that.

Keep your senses on alert but let go of the burning fear, as you replace it with powerful faith.

As the bells ring out the joys of Christmas, may we also be alert for the final trumpet that will announce His return, when we shall always be with Him.

It is impossible for a lover of cats to banish these alert, gentle, and discriminating friends, who give us just enough of their regard and complaisance to make us hunger for more.

When you’re wide awake say it for goodness sake, it’s gonna be a great day.

Instead of indulging in jealousy, greed, in relishing themselves, there are men who keep their hearts alert to the stillness in which time rolls on and leaves us behind.

It’s always nice to have those WTF moments that keep us aware.

Our fears are alerts that something is important to us.