He loops in crazy figures half the night Among the trees that face the corner light. But when he brushes up against a screen, We are afraid of what o… - Theodore Roethke

Be sure that whatever you are is you.

In our age, if a boy or girl is untalented, the odds are in favor of their thinking they want to write. (p. 89)

Listen, love,
The fat lark sang in the field;
I touched the ground, the ground warmed by the killdeer,
The salt laughed and the stones;
The ferns had their ways, and the pulsing lizards,
And the new plants, still awkward in their soil,
The lovely diminutives.
I could watch! I could watch!
I saw the separateness of all things!
My heart lifted up with the great grasses;
The weeds believed me, and the nesting birds.
There were clouds making a rout of shapes crossing a windbreak
of cedars,
And a bee shaking drops from a rain-soaked honeysuckle.
The worms were delighted as wrens.
And I walked, I walked through the light air;
I moved with the morning.