Reverence makes it possible to be whole, though ignorant. It is the wholeness of understanding.

It is not from ourselves that we learn to be better than we are.

Not just self-restraint, that old killjoy, but communal restraint.

The country where he lives is haunted by the ghost of an old forest. In the cleared fields where he gardens and pastures his horses it stood once, and will return. There will be a resurrection of the wild. Already it stands in wait at the pasture fences.

After a while, though the grief did not go away from us, it grew quiet. What had seemed a storm wailing through the entire darkness seemed to come in at last and lie down.

But the sower going forth to sow sets foot into time to come, the seeds falling on his own place. He has prepared a way for his life to come to him, if it will. Like a tree, he has given roots to the earth, and stands free.

Novelty is a new kind of loneliness.