And blessed are they who have learned the rhythms of the invisible clock whose hours and minutes are immense and soundless. The great clock of the seasons and the years, and the small clock of the intuition, whose timing is guided by the heart.

The dead elm leaves hung like folded bats.

Lord make me satisfied with small things. Make me content to live on the outside of life. God make me love the rind!

What is sanity, after all, except the control of madness?

... love and fear increase together with a precision almost mathematical: the greater the love is then the greater the fear is.

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.

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