"Fragments from the universal past, crevices in a rock face, leaves after winter, these are my favorite and chosen metaphors for life, death and survival.
A dragonfly, a sunflower live briefly, but radiantly. Sometimes a seed, a wing is found. And that is enough evidence for the poet to trust in survival.
If not mine, then the tribe's. If not the tribe's, then at least the species'. And, if not that, then what verities shall I feed my soul?" -Eve
