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1 " GraveWhat do you think of my new glassesI asked as I stood under a shade treebefore the joined grave of my parents,and what followed was a long silencethat descended on the rows of the dead and on the fields and the woods beyond, one of the one hundred kinds of silenceaccording to the Chinese belief,each one distinct from the others,but the differences being so faintthat only a few special monks were able to tell them apart.They make you look very scholarly,I heard my mother sayonce I lay down on the groundand pressed an ear into the soft grass.Then I rolled over and pressed my other ear to the ground,the ear my father likes to speak into,but he would say nothing,and I could not find a silenceamong the 100 Chinese silencesthat would fit the one that he createdeven though I was the onewho had just made up the businessof the 100 Chinese silences - the Silence of the Night Boatand the Silence of the Lotus,cousin to the Silence of the Temple Bellonly deeper and softer, like petals, at its farthest edges. "
― Billy Collins , Horoscopes for the Dead
2 " My HeroJust as the hare is zipping across the finish line,the tortoise has stopped once againby the roadside,this time to stick out his neckand nibble a bit of sweet grass,unlike the previous timewhen he was distractedby a bee humming in the heart of a wildflower. "
3 " Thank-You NotesUnder the vigilant eye of my motherI had to demonstrate my best penmanshipBy thanking Uncle Gerry for the toy soldiers–Little red members of the Coldstream Guards–And thanking Aunt Helen for the pistol and holster,But now I am writing other notes Alone at a small cherry deskwith a breeze coming in an open window,thanking everyone I happen to seeon my long walk to the post office todayand anyone who ever gave me directionsor placed a hand on my shoulder,or cut my hair or fixed my car.And while I am at it,thanks to everyone who happened to dieon the same day that I was born.Thank you for stepping aside to make room for me,for giving up you seat,getting out of the way, to be blunt.I waited until midnighton that day in March before I appeared,all slimy and squinting, in order to leave timefor enough of the living to drive off a bridge or collapse in a hallwayso that I could enter without causing a stir.So I am writing now to thank everyonewho drifted off that daylike smoke from a row of blown-out candles–for giving up your only flame.One day, I will follow your exampleand step politely out of the pathof an oncoming infant, but not right nowwith the subtropical sun warming this pageand the wind stirring the fronds of the palmettos,and me about to begin another noteon my very best stationaryto the ones who are making room todayfor the daily host of babies,descending like bees with their wings and stingers,ready to get busy with all their earthly joys and tasks. "
4 " I was too young then to see that she was staring into the great mystery just as intently as her sisters, her gorgeous, brown and white, philosophic sisters. "
5 " would have to say that the crown resting on the head of my "