“The brooks flow to their lover, the sea, and the flowers smile at the object of their passion, the light. The mist rolls down to its beloved, the valley. And I? In me is what brooks do not know, what flowers do not hear, what the mist does not apprehend. You see me alone in my love, solitary in my yearning.”

“What does education often do? It makes a straight-cut ditch of a free, meandering brook.”

“I made you take time to look at what I saw and when you took time to really notice my flower, you hung all your associations with flowers on my flower and you write about my flower as if I think and see what you think and see—and I don't.”

“In my mind, I see Will. Think how he has become the mist, the sky, everything, to me. I do more than survive here. I love.”

“Bees and butterflies, moths and dragonflies, the flowers and the brooks and the clouds.”

“I Go Down To The ShoreI go down to the shore in the morningand depending on the hour the wavesare rolling in or moving out,and I say, oh, I am miserable,what shall—what should I do? And the sea saysin its lovely voice:Excuse me, I have work to do.”