I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary.

You must be ready to burn yourself in your own flame;
How could you become new if you haven’t first become ashes?

You’re a poet. Welcome to hell.

What we are doing to the forests of the world is but a mirror reflection of what we are doing to ourselves and to one another.

I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where we once were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and the long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively. I will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from slim to zero, and until your face is fogged by distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don’t see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and no matter how I am discovered after what happens to me as I am discovering this.

Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please.

The clearest way to the Universe is through a forest wilderness.

When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest.