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— Octavia Butler"We give our dead To the orchards And the groves. We give our dead To life."
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God! sing, ye meadow-streams, with gladsome voice! Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds! And they too have a voice, you piles of snow, And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God!
— Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Sometimes an unimportant incident is capable of turning everything beautiful into a moment of anxiety. We insist on seeing the mote in the eye and forget about the mountains, the fields and the olive groves.
— Paulo Coelho
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