If there'd been a better-balanced society, where there were other ways of making a decent living, I think it might have been different. That's not the way this setup work.

I offer you what I have my Poverty

After an age of leaves and feathers someone dead thought of the mountain as money and cut the trees that were here and the wind and the rain at night. It is hard to say it.

The story of each stone leads back to a mountain.

My words are the garment of what I shall never be Like the tucked sleeve of a one-armed boy.

Send me out into another life lord because this one is growing faint I do not think it goes all the way

I also think that life itself is both indifferent to us and the source of all of our joys and everything that we love. And it's necessary to accept the one in order to love the other.