Religion is passionate, reckless, destructive, idol-smashing. It's a martyr burning at the stake. It's a crown of thorns and a cross.

once a man had thrust his hands into the soil and knew the grit of it between his teeth, he felt something rise within him that was not of his day or generation, but had persisted through birth and death from a time beyond recall.

I don't see as it matters much how well you mean if it's harm you're doin'.

The snow again. White, white net of beauty, net of dream, trapping the earth, trapping the helpless heart of life.

Time passed so much more slowly than space.

Time, designing slowly, swiftly; Time, destroying slowly, swiftly; Time holding, possessing the earth in its tender indifference.

Growing old was simply a process of drawing closer to that ultimate independence called death.