A choir of seedlings arching their necks out of rotted tree stumps, sucking life out of death. I am the forest's conscience, but remember, the forest eats itself and lives forever.

It is true that I do not speak as well as I can think. But that is true of most people, as nearly as I can tell.

You could love your crazy people, even admire them, instead of resenting that they're not self-sufficient.

Of the two hundred bones in the human body, more than a quarter are in the foot. It is a more complicated instrument than an automobile transmission, and it is treated with far less consideration.

Given my own circumstances, I find that anything can turn out to belong nearly anywhere.

This is how moths speak to each other. They tell their love across the fields by scent. There is no mouth, the wrong words are impossible, either a mate is there or he is not, and if so the pair will find each other in the dark.

My life is a pitiful, mechanical thing without a past, like a little wind-up car, ready to run in any direction someone points me.