Colleen

“It was one of those early November mornings that are as beautiful as any in spring. There was gold everywhere, drifts of it on the elm tree, flakes of gold under our feet, gold dust on the hedges, liquid gold in the refracted falling light.”
― Elizabeth Goudge, The Dean's Watch

“Along the western slopes of the Oregon Coastal Range . . . come look: the hysterical crashing of tributaries as they merge into the Wakonda Auga River . . . The first little washes flashing like thick rushing winds through sheep sorrel and clover, ghost fern and nettle, sheering, cutting . . . forming branches. Then, through bear-berry and salmonberry, blueberry and blackberry, the branches crashing into creeks, into streams. Finally, in the foothills, through tamarack and sugar pine, shittim bark and silver spruce—and the green and blue mosaic of Douglas fir—”
― Ken Kesey, Sometimes a Great Notion

“Which of the horses
we passed yesterday whinnied
all night in my dreams?
I want that one.”
― William Stafford, TRAVELING THROUGH THE DARK.

“The world breaks everyone, and afterward, many are strong at the broken places.”
― Ernest Hemingway