Limitations gone:Since my mind fixed on the moon, Clarity and serenityMake something for whichThere's no end in sight.

Tightly held by rocksThrough winter, the ice todayBegins to come undone:A way-seeker also is the water, Melting, murmuring from the moss.

Today's satori:Such a change of mind wouldNot exist withoutMy lifelong habit of havingMy mind immersed in blossoms.

Beyond this life andThis world I'll have it tilMy heart's content:The bright moon that passed overThe horizon before I had my fill.

Last year, Yoshino, I walked away bending branchesTo point me to blossoms--Which now are everywhere and I canGo where I've never been before.

Returning to whereIt used to see blossoms, My mind, changed, Will stay on at Yoshino...Home now, and see anew.

Fundamentalism's strident denunciation of its opponents is a sign of its weakness, its dogmatic authoritarianism is a pathological mutation of faith.

You can't turn back the clock, but you can wind it up again.

Each thing in its way, when true to its own character, is equally beautiful. (p 41)

When I say it doesn't make much difference, I mean in terms of the importance of the piece of literature.

The storm dropped a house on her head.

Earth, Ashes to ashes and dust to dust in mother earth we place our trust and as we cycle through our years we water it with blood and tears.

Joyfulness keeps the heart and face young.

The message is always going to get through. Me being able to speak is a message in itself.

If you had asked me back in grade school what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would have said my first choice was an actor, but if I couldn't be that, I'd want to be a superhero.

The great thing in hitting is, not to be half-hearted about it; but when you make up your mind to hit, to do it as if the whole match depended upon that particular stroke.