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

There is 'a time to be born' - and born again, free of accumulated, encrusted sores of fears and prejudices, old hates, of cancerous wounds, old prides. And there is a time to die - a time for the blue, unburied child of our young years to be decently interred - and to get on with the living.

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

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.

The earth was overwhelmed with beauty and indifferent to it, and I went with a heart ready to crack for its unbearable loveliness.

The dead elm leaves hung like folded bats.

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