The funny thing is, I know my life is full of the tangible, real things. The wood in the stove, the splinters in my fingers, the heavy mugs of my early throwing days and the better ones more recently made. Books, tea, snow, wind, chickens pecking at the door. All these things are mine and yet they’re never enough. I want everything that is real and beautiful. I want to gather it all up like my daughter wants to gather up the moon and hug it to her in love. There are some longings that cannot be filled with a thousand letters.
"Longings don't want to be quenched
with a drink from some dull, mundane glass;
they want to be your objects portrait
and your desire's equipoise-"