“The tide was a poem that only time could create, and I watched it stream and brim and makes its steady dash homeward, to the ocean.”
“Open all your pores and bathe in all the tides of nature, in all her streams and oceans, at all seasons.”
“I dream of land, cut only where streams glistened with birdsong wander through quiet hills burnt hard by the scrape of wind, and of a porch from which a single road leads only homeward. ”
“She could become a spinster, like Emily Dickinson, writing poems full of dashes and brilliance, and never gaining weight.”
“A writing stream is my tide of reason.”
“The tides are in our veins, we still mirror the stars, life is your child, but there is in meOlder and harder than life and more impartial, the eye that watched before there was an ocean.”