All still when summer is over stand shocks in the field, nothing left to whisper, not even good-bye, to the wind. After summer was over we knew winter would come: we knew silence would wait, tall, patient calm. — William Stafford Copy Share Image
People wander about what you are pursuing. You have to explain about the thread. — William Stafford Copy Share Image
I don't see writing as a communication of something already discovered, as "truths" already known. Rather, I see writing as a job of experiment.… — William Stafford Copy Share Image
An owl sound wandered along the road with me. I didn't hear it--I breathed it into my ears. — William Stafford Copy Share Image
The Way It Is There’s a thread you follow. It goes among things that change. But it doesn’t change. People wonder about what you are pursuing. You have to explain about the thread. But it is hard for others to see. While you hold it you can’t get lost. Tragedies happen; people get hurt or die; and you suffer and… — William Stafford Copy Share
It's love,' they say. You touch the right one and a whole half of the universe wakes up, a new half. — William Stafford Copy Share Image
“There may be losses too great to understand That rove after you and--faint and terrible-- rip unknown through your hand.” — William Stafford Copy Share Image
It is as if the ordinary language we use every day has a hidden set of signals, a kind of secret code. — William Stafford Copy Share Image
My question is "when did other people give up the idea of being a poet?" You know, when we are kids we make up… — William Stafford Copy Share Image
The things you do not have to say make you rich. Saying the things you do not have to say weakens your talk. Hearing… — William Stafford Copy Share Image
“I am your own way of looking at things," she said. "When you allow me to live with you, every glance at the world… — William Stafford Copy Share Image
