“I love going out of my way, beyond what I know, and finding my way back a few extra miles, by another trail, with a compass that argues with the map…nights alone in motels in remote western towns where I know no one and no one I know knows where I am, nights with strange paintings and floral spreads and cable television that furnish a reprieve from my own biography, when in Benjamin’s terms, I have lost myself though I know where I am. Moments when I say to myself as feet or car clear a crest or round a bend, I have never seen this place before. Times when some architectural detail on vista that has escaped me these many years says to me that I never did know where I was, even when I was home.”

“The Lost TribeHow long, how long must I regret? I never found my people yet; I go about, but cannot find The blood-relations of the mindThrough my little sphere I range, And though I wither do not change; Must not change a jot, lest they Should not know me on my way.Sometimes I think when I am dead They will come about my bed, For my people well do know When to come and when to go.I know not why I am alone, Nor where my wandering tribe is gone, But be they few, or be they far, Would I were where my people are!”

“The closer I get, the faster I have to go. Otherwise, I might be late to the very place where I’m not even expected. Adding to my tardiness is the fact that I don’t even know where I’m going. And I can’t get from here to there when I don’t even know where I am, let alone where I’m going. All I know is I’m going fast, but not fast enough.”

“Come unto me. Come unto me, you say. All right then, dear my Lord. I will try in my own absurd way. In my own absurd way I will try to come unto you, a project which is in itself by no means unabsurd. Because I do not know the time or place where you are. And if by some glad accident my feet should stumble on it, I do not know that I would know that I had stumbled on it. And even if I did know, I do not know for sure that I would find you there. … And if you are there, I do not know that I would recognize you. And if I recognized you, I do not know what that would mean or even what I would like it to mean. I do not even well know who it is you summon, myself.For who am I? I know only that heel and toe, memory and metatarsal, I am everything that turns, all of a piece, unthinking, at the sound of my name. … Come unto me, you say. I, … all of me, unknowing and finally unknowable even to myself, turn. O Lord and lover, I come if I can to you down through the litter of any day, through sleeping and waking and eating and saying goodbye and going away and coming back again. Laboring and laden with endless histories heavy on my back.”

“I don’t know where I am going, but I am on my way.”

“Personally I like going places where I don't speak the language, don't know anybody, don't know my way around and don't have any delusions that I'm in control. Disoriented, even frightened, I feel alive, awake in ways I never am at home.”