For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves.

Without words, without writing and without books there would be no history, there could be no concept of humanity.

Our god's name is Abraxas and he is God and Satan and he contains both the luminous and the dark world.

His life oscillates, as everyone's does, not merely between two poles, such as the body and the spirit, the saint and the sinner, but between thousands and thousands.

Human life is reduced to real suffering, to hell, only when two ages, two cultures and religions overlap.

When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured.

To achieve the possible, we must attempt the impossible again and again.