A life like an intricately woven basket, frayed, worn, broken, unraveled, reworked, reknit from many of its original pieces... Life can survive in the constant shadow of illness, and even rise to moments of rampant joy, but the shadow remains, and one has to make space for it.

Nature is also great fun. To pretend that nature isn't fun is to miss much of the joy of being alive.

Fear is danger to your body, but disgust is danger to your soul.

As fleeting emotions stalk it, a face can leak fear or the guilt of a forming lie.

When you consider something like death, after which (there being no news flash to the contrary) we may well go out like a candle flame, then it probably doesn't matter if we try too hard, are awkward sometimes, care for one another too deeply, are excessively curious about nature, are too open to experience, enjoy a nonstop expense of the senses in an effort to know life intimately and lovingly.

It began in mystery, and it will end in mystery, but what a savage and beautiful country lies in between.

Writer's block is a luxury most people with deadlines don't have.