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

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!

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

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

Everything drops away, comes to be unimportant in the dark. It's like sleep almost. A freedom from self, from ugliness.