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There are millions of people living Thoreau's life of quiet desperation, and they do not have the language to escape from that desperation.

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Poetry gives us courage and sets us straight with the world. Poems are great companions and friends.

All of our great traditions, religious, contemplative and artistic, say that you must a learn how to be alone - and have a relationship with silence. It is difficult, but it can start with just the tiniest quiet moment.

The great poems are not about experience, but are the experience itself, felt in the body.

The ultimate lesson is that there is no immunity, no matter our age or the size of our retirement account, from going through constant cycles of integration and disintegration in which we are humbled and hopefully set to rights with the world again.

The frail, vulnerable sounds of which we are capable seem to be essential to a later ability to roar like a lion without scaring everyone to death.

Honesty is grounded in humility and indeed in humiliation, and in admitting exactly where we are powerless.

A good poem looks life straight in the face, unflinching, sincere, equal to revelation through loss or gain.

Regret is a short, evocative and achingly beautiful word: an elegy to lost possibilities even in its brief annunciation.

In Germany, they have great difficulty with anything that smacks of cultism or messianic leadership. You can't talk about leadership in its charismatic forms.

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There are millions of people living Thoreau's life of quiet desperation, and they do not have the language to escape from that desperation.

There are millions of people living Thoreau's life of quiet desperation, and they do not have the language to escape from that desperation.

There are millions of people living Thoreau's life of quiet desperation, and they do not have the language to escape from that desperation.

There are millions of people living Thoreau's life of quiet desperation, and they do not have the language to escape from that desperation.

There are millions of people living Thoreau's life of quiet desperation, and they do not have the language to escape from that desperation.

There are millions of people living Thoreau's life of quiet desperation, and they do not have the language to escape from that desperation.

There are millions of people living Thoreau's life of quiet desperation, and they do not have the language to escape from that desperation.

There are millions of people living Thoreau's life of quiet desperation, and they do not have the language to escape from that desperation.

There are millions of people living Thoreau's life of quiet desperation, and they do not have the language to escape from that desperation.

There are millions of people living Thoreau's life of quiet desperation, and they do not have the language to escape from that desperation.

There are millions of people living Thoreau's life of quiet desperation, and they do not have the language to escape from that desperation.

There are millions of people living Thoreau's life of quiet desperation, and they do not have the language to escape from that desperation.

There are millions of people living Thoreau's life of quiet desperation, and they do not have the language to escape from that desperation.

There are millions of people living Thoreau's life of quiet desperation, and they do not have the language to escape from that desperation.

There are millions of people living Thoreau's life of quiet desperation, and they do not have the language to escape from that desperation.