things that have cost more than they're worth leave a bitter taste. A taste of salt and sweat.

Teach the legal rights of trees, the nobility of hills; respect the beauty of singularity, the value of solitude.

I am sick of war. Every woman of my generation is sick of war. Fifty years of war. Wars rumored, wars beginning, wars fought, wars ending, wars paid for, wars endured.

I cannot believe this is the end. Nor can I believe that death is more than the blindness of those living. And if this is only the consolation of a heart in its necessity, or that easy faith born of despair, it does not matter, since it gives us courage somehow to face the mornings. Which is as much as the heart can ask at times.

The dead elm leaves hung like folded bats.

New gods arise when they are needed.

in mad people fear goes on constantly, night and day, wearing one ditch in the mind that all thoughts must travel in.