“Anxiety is the handmaiden of creativity”

There’s no vocabulary For love within a family, love that’s lived in But not looked at, love within the light of which All else is seen, the love within which All other love finds speech. This love is silent.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me.

Every experience is a paradox in that it means to be absolute, and yet is relative; in that it somehow always goes beyond itself and yet never escapes itself.

Unreal friendship may turn to real But real friendship, once ended, cannot be mended

I learn a great deal by merely observing you, and letting you talk as long as you please, and taking note of what you do not say.

No one can become really educated without having pursued some study in which he took no interest- for it is a part of education to learn to interest ourselves in subjects for which we have no aptitude.

The visible reminder of Invisible Light.

We don’t actually fear death, we fear that no one will notice our absence, that we will disappear without a trace.

People to whom nothing has ever happened cannot understand the unimportance of events.

We do not pass through the same door twice Or return to the door through which we did not pass.

Success is relative. It is what we make of the mess we have made of things.

Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea.

Books. Cats. Life is good.

There is no feeling, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music.

In my end is my beginning.

Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.