When it's over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
To live in this world, you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go.
Because of the dog's joyfulness, our own is increased. It is no small gift. It is not the least reason why we should honor as love the dog of our own life, and the dog down the street, and all the dogs not yet born.
Animals praise a good day, a good hunt. They praise rain if they're thirsty. That's prayer. They don't live an unconscious life, they simply have no language to talk about these things. But they are grateful for the good things that come along.
The woods that I loved as a child are entirely gone. The woods that I loved as a young adult are gone. The woods that most recently I walked in are not gone, but they're full of bicycle trails.
To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.
So this is how you swim inward. So this is how you flow outwards. So this is how you pray.
I acknowledge my feeling and gratitude for life by praising the world and whoever made all these things.
I'm going to die one day. I know it's coming for me, too. I'll be a mountain, I'll be a stone on the beach. I'll be nourishment.
Writers sometimes give up what is most strange and wonderful about their writing - soften their roughest edges - to accommodate themselves toward a group response.
You can fool a lot of yourself but you can't fool the soul.
Walks work for me. I enter some arena that is neither conscious or unconscious.
I have a notebook with me all the time, and I begin scribbling a few words. When things are going well, the walk does not get anywhere; I finally just stop and write.
Poetry is one of the ancient arts, and it began as did all the fine arts, within the original wilderness of the earth.
We all have a hungry heart, and one of the things we hunger for is happiness. So as much as I possibly could, I stayed where I was happy.
Poetry isn't a profession, it's a way of life. It's an empty basket; you put your life into it and make something out of that.
You have to be in the world to understand what the spiritual is about, and you have to be spiritual in order to truly be able to accept what the world is about.
There were times over the years when life was not easy, but if you're working a few hours a day and you've got a good book to read, and you can go outside to the beach and dig for clams, you're okay.
To tell you the truth, I believe everything - tigers, trees, stones - are sentient in one way or another. You'd never catch me idly kicking a stone, for example.
I simply do not distinguish between work and play.
I have a notion that if you are going to be spiritually curious, you better not get cluttered up with too many material things.
I grew up in a confused house: too much unwanted attention or none at all.
Instead of taking the reader by the hand and running him down the hill, I want to lead him into a house of many rooms, and leave him alone in each of them.