Each day is born with a sunrise and ends in a sunset, the same way we open our eyes to see the light, and close them to hear the dark. You have no control over how your story begins or ends. But by now, you should know that all things have an ending. Every spark returns to darkness. Every sound returns to silence. And every flower returns to sleep with the earth. The journey of the sun and moon is predictable. But yours, is your ultimate ART.
It is not for me to judge another man's life. I must judge, I must choose, I must spurn, purely for myself. For myself, alone.
When much in the Woods as a little girl, I was told that the Snake would bite me, that I might pick a poisonous flower, or Goblins kidnap me, but I went along and met no one but Angels
Emily Dickinson, from a letter to T. W. Higginson, August 1862
“Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.”
I was always attracted not by some quantifiable, external beauty, but by something deep down, something absolute. Just as some people have a secret love for rainstorms, earthquakes, or blackouts, I liked that certain, undefinable something.
Haruki Murakami, The Unvisited
All forests have their own personality. I don't just mean the obvious differences, like how an English woodland is different from a Central American rain forest, or comparing tracts of West Coast redwoods to the saguaro forests of the American Southwest... they each have their own gossip, their own sound, their own rustling whispers and smells. A voice speaks up when you enter their acres that can't be mistaken for one you'd hear anyplace else, a voice true to those particular trees, individual rather than of their species.
Charles de Lint, The Onion Girl
“Mushrooms were the roses in the garden of that unseen world....”
“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more”
Lord Byron
Let sleeping wolves lie
The wild is where you find it, not in some distant world relegated to a nostalgic past or an idealized future; its presence is not black or white, bad or good, corrupted or innocent... We are of that nature, not apart from it. We survive because of it, not instead of it.
⚜️Artist, Writer, Photographer 🌿 🌳 Old Soul, Wild Heart, Amateur Human ⚜️
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