You must bind up any wounds you give the earth and you must feed her to replace what you take from her. Every gift she gives, every tree, every stalk of grain, costs her. Only if you repay your debts will she continue to provide.

She enjoys rain for its wetness, winter for its cold, summer for its heat. She loves rainbows as much for fading as for their brilliance. It is easy for her, she opens her heart and accepts everything.

You have no enemy until you make one.

We’re born alone and we die alone, I accept that. But why, God, do we have to be alone in the middle?

Waiting is worse than knowing. Grief rends the heart cleanly, that it may begin to heal; waiting shreds the spirit.

He took her into his arms again, using all his strength to be gentle, and let his lips touch hers so lightly he could hardly feel it.

Bodies wear out to remind us they are temporary, and force us to spend more thought on our spirits