You know, he said, our work is difficult: we confrontmuch sorrow and disappointment.He gazed at me with increasing frankness.I was like you once, he added, in love with turbulence.

They saythere is a rift in the human soulwhich was not constructed to belongentirely to life.

All your life, you wait for the propitious time.Then the propitious timereveals itself as action taken.

Watching youstare into space in the tidyrows of the vegetable garden, ostensiblyworking hard while actuallydoing the worst job possible, I thinkyou are a small irritating purple thingand I would like to see you walk off the face of the earthbecause you are all that's wrong with my lifeand I need you and I claim you.