Branches grew from his hands, his hair. His thoughts tangled like roots in the ground. He strained upward. Pitch ran like tears down his back. His name formed his core; ring upon ring of silence built around it. His face rose high above the forests. Gripped to earth, bending to the wind's fury, he disappeared within himself, behind the hard, wind-scrolled shield of his experiences.

Do you become in visible?' 'No. I'm there, if you know how to look. I stand between the place you look at and the place you see. Behind what you expect to see. If you expect to see me, you do. I listen in places where no one expects me to be.

Love is an obsolete emotion, ranking in usefulness somewhere between earwigs and toe mold.

Wisdom never learned silence, and it is most annoying when least wanted.

It’s an odd thing, happiness. Some people take happiness from gold. Or black pearls. And some of us, far more fortunate, take their happiness from periwinkles.

What?" It was a good word. Like a rock in a river, sticking up to let you land on it, so you could make your way across the flow.

Peace, tremulous, unexpected, sent a taproot out of nowhere into Morgan's heart.