WednesdayFeb 25, 2026
Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969
God bless the roots! Body and soul are one.
In a dark time, the eye begins to see.
And what a congress of stinks!- Roots ripe as old bait, Pulpy stems, rank, silo-rich, Leaf mold, manure, lime, piled against slippery planks, Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath.
All finite things reveal infinitude: The mountain with its singular bright shade Like the blue shine on freshly frozen snow, The afterlight upon iceburdened pines; Odor of basswood upon a mountain slope, A scene beloved of bees; Silence of water above a sunken tree: The pure serene of memory of one man, A ripple widening from a single stone Winding around the waters of the world.
The indignity of it! With everything blooming above me, Lilies, palepink cyclamen, roses, Whole fields lovely and inviolate, Me down in the fetor of weeds, Crawling on all fours, Alive, in a slippery grave.
Long live the weeds that overwhelm My narrow vegetable realm! The bitter rock, the barren soil That force the son of man to toil; All things unholy, marred by curse, The ugly of the universe.
Love is not love until love's vunerable.
What's madness but nobility of soul at odds with circumstance?
I came where the river Ran over stones; My ears knew An early joy. And all the waters Of all the streams Sang in my veins That summer day.
May my silences become more accurate.
Time marks us while we are marking time.
And everything comes to One, As we dance on, dance on, dance on.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I feel my fate in what I cannot fear. I learn by going where I have to go.
A lively understandable spirit Once entertained you. It will come again. Be still. Wait.
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