to live will be an awfully big adventure

“The last word in ignorance is the man who says of an animal or plant, “What good is it?” If the land mechanism as a whole is good, then every part is good, whether we understand it or not. If the biota, in the course of aeons, has built something we like but do not understand, then who but a fool would discard seemingly useless parts? To keep every cog and wheel is the first precaution of intelligent tinkering.”

“You are so brave and quiet, I forget you are suffering.”

The prettier the garden, the dirtier the hands of the gardener.

Life is short, though I keep this from my children. Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways, a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative estimate, though I keep this from my children. For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird. For every loved child, a child broken, bagged, sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world is at least half terrible, and for every kind stranger, there is one who would break you, though I keep this from my children. I am trying to sell them the world. Any decent realtor, walking you through a real shithole, chirps on about good bones: This place could be beautiful, right? You could make this place beautiful.

A well-chosen book saves you from everything, including yourself.

There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see the world, the more am I dissatisfied with, and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters.

Ah, September! You are the doorway to the season that awakens my soul.

I ask you, how much beauty can a person bear?