True forgiveness always has a sacrificial character. It can never have a passive character. For we do not simply make a decision to "forget" the wrong or injustice that has been perpetrated upon us but, in addition, we take upon ourselves an inner obligation to MAKE AMENDS for the objective harm which evil action has wrought not only upon us but also upon the world. In true forgiveness we willingly, out of complete inner freedom, take upon ourselves an inner obligation to give the world as much compassion, love, and goodness as the evil action has objectively taken away from it.
~ from THE HIDDEN SIGNIFICANCE OF FORGIVENESS by Prokofieff with thanks to Elaine Laforet
I rarely think of poetry as something I make happen; it is more accurate to say that it happens to me. Like a summer storm, a house afire, or the coincidence of both on the same day. Like a car wreck, only with more illuminating results. I've overheard poems, virtually complete, in elevators or restaurants where I was minding my own business... When a poem does arrive, I gasp as if an apple had fallen into my hand, and give thanks for the luck involved. Poems are everywhere, but easy to miss. I know I might very well stand under that tree all day, whistling, looking off to the side, waiting for a red delicious poem to fall so I could own it forever. But like as not, it wouldn't.
~ Barbara Kingsolver from "Stealing Apples" in SMALL WONDER
In feigned completeness I would walk the lonely
longest distance between all points and all others
because in their connection my geometry will have
been faithful to its own imagined laws.
~ from "American Biographies" in ANOTHER AMERICA by Barbara Kingsolver
