The Gift Turned Inward, Unable To Be

The Creative Person, The Person Who Moves From An Irrational Source Of Power, Has To Face The Fact That This Power Antagonizes. Under All The Superficial Praise Of The Creative Is The Desire To Kill. It Is The Old War Between The Mystic And The Nonmystic, A War To The Death.

I Am Not Ready To Die, / But I Am Learning To Trust Death / As I Have Trusted Life.

Why Is It That People Who Cannot Show Feeling Presume That That Is A Strength And Not A Weakness?

The Ambience Here Is Order And Beauty. That Is What Frightens Me When I Am First Alone Again. I Feel Inadequate. I Have Made An Open Place, A Place For Meditation. What If I Cannot Find Myself Inside It?

I Feel More Alive When I'm Writing Than I Do At Any Other Time--except Maybe When I'm Making Love.