Homes Quotes (page 28)
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The gaps are the thing. The gaps are the spirit's one home, the altitudes and latitudes so dazzlingly spare and clean that the spirit can discover itself like a once-blind man unbound. The gaps are the clefts in the rock where you cower to see the back parts of God; they are fissures between mountains and cells the wind lances through, the icy narrowing fiords splitting the cliffs of mystery. Go up into the gaps. If you can find them; they shift and vanish too. Stalk the gaps. Squeak...
Annie Dillard
The only patriots worth their salt are the ones who love their country enough to see that in a nuclear age it is not going to survive unless the world survives. True patriots are no longer champions of Democracy, Communism, or anythig like that but champions of the Human Race. It is not the Homeland that they feel called on to defend at any cost but the planet Earth as Home. If in the interests of making sure we don't blow ourselves off the map once and for all, we end up relinquishing a...
Frederick Buechner
Tom Dancer’s gift of a whitebark pine cone
You never know
What opportunity
Is going to travel to you,
Or through you.
Once a friend gave me
A small pine cone-
One of a few
He found in the scat
Of a grizzly
In Utah maybe,
Or Wyoming.
I took it home
And did what I supposed
He was sure I would do-
I ate it,
Thinking
How it had traveled
Through that rough
And holy body.
It was crisp and sweet.
It was almost a prayer
Without words.
My gratitude, Tom...
Mary Oliver
I have heard stories that it was love at first sight for both of us, that we disappeared to a guest room at Merle's house, had our meals sent up, and didn't emerge for several days. This is absolutely untrue. I would never behave like that as a guest in someone's home. Carlos and I went to my beach house.
Martha Graham
It's very good of you--"No, no, not at all. It's my hobby. Not proposing to people, I don't mean, but investigating things. Well, cheer-frightfully-ho and all that. And I'll call again, if I may."I will give the footman orders to admit you," said the prisoner, gravely, "you will always find me at home.
Dorothy L. Sayers
It rasped her, though, to have stirring about in her this brutal monster! to hear twigs cracking and feel hooves planted down in the depths of that leaf-encumbered forest, the soul; never to be content quite, or quite secure, for at any moment the brute would be stirring, this hatred, which, especially since her illness, had power to make her feel scraped, hurt in her spine; gave her physical pain, and made all pleasure in beauty, in friendship, in being well, in being loved and making her...
Virginia Woolf
