Freshly cut Christmas trees smelling of stars and snow and pine resin - inhale deeply and fill your soul with wintry night.

Here's what I've learned - people will hurt you, but you don't have to respond: Not every mean comment or cruel act deserves to be noticed.

December's wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer's memory.

The winter is kind and leaves red berries on the boughs for hungry sparrows.

I hear the sounds of melting snow outside my window every night and with the first faint scent of spring, I remember life exists

Dark furrow lines grid the snow, punctuated by orange abacus beads of pumpkins - now the crows own the field.

You think so logically... like a hawk soaring - I feel so chaotically... like a kite without a tail plummeting to earth.

I love it when the dark bottle of night spills out, and the Moon writes in chalk about us.

It must be hard when you are a beautiful woman and no one will look at your soul.

Sunday evenings are heavier than clouds with rain, darker too and often interminable.

I'm shy in person - so afraid to confess my love - I need a go-between - our mutual friend, the Moon.

You ought to stop everything and write the sacred-words as its flashes in your mind.

My father says that there is only one perfect view — the view of the sky straight over our heads, and that all these views on earth are but bungled copies of it.

I stole the very shiniest words and hoarded them all up until they made something worth having.

For the facts that make up the world need the non-factual as a vantage point from which to be perceived.

I feel I am a child that's lost its mother. I feel like a calf whose mother has gone off to slaughter.

I think there's a part of us that fantasizes about having some sort of super power. If I could have one, it would definitely be teleportation!

It goes like this: teaching is touching life

I never hear white writers get asked, 'Do you worry about how you represent white people?'

At last he came to a door, with these words in glowing emeralds: THE END OF THE WORLD He did not hesitate. He opened the door and stepped through.

Unacceptable, maybe. But not unthinkable. Nothing's unthinkable once somebody's thought it.