Unless We Are Willing To Escape Into

So It Is That We Can Seldom Help Anybody. Either We Don't Know What Part To Give Or Maybe We Don't Like To Give Any Part Of Ourselves. Then, More Often Than Not, The Part That Is Needed Is Not Wanted. And Even More Often, We Do Not Have The Part That Is Needed.

Many Of Us Would Probably Be Better Fishermen If We Did Not Spend So Much Time Watching And Waiting For The World To Become Perfect

As For My Father, I Never Knew Whether He Believed God Was A Mathematician But He Certainly Believed God Could Count And That Only By Picking Up God's Rhythms Were We Able To Regain Power And Beauty. Unlike Many Presbyterians, He Often Used The Word "beautiful.

Probably Most Catastrophes End This Way Without An Ending, The Dead Not Even Knowing How They Died...,those Who Loved Them Forever Questioning "this Unnecessary Death," And The Rest Of Us Tiring Of This Inconsolable Catastrophe And Turning To The Next One.

Ahead And To The West Was Our Ranger Station - And The Mountains Of Idaho, Poems Of Geology Stretching Beyond Any Boundaries And Seemingly Even Beyond The World.