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Quote by May Sarton

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““Nothing moves fast in Texas except the windmills And the hawk that rises up with a clatter of wings. (Nothing more startling there than sudden motion, Everything is so still.)””

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There is a wilder solitude in winter When every sense is pricked alive and keen.

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I long for the bulbs to arrive, for the early autumn chores are melancholy, but the planting of bulbs is the work of hope…

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Why is it that people who cannot show feeling presume that that is a strength and not a weakness?

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Innocence is not pure so much as pleased, Always expectant, bright-eyed, self-enclosed

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