“That was the burden,' she mused, 'laid on me in the cradle; murmured by waves; breathed by restless elm trees; crooned by singing women; what we must rememeber; what we would forget.”

“We can speak without voice to the trees and the clouds and the waves of the sea. Without words they respond through the rustling of leaves and the moving of clouds and the murmuring of the sea.”

“We feel much sorrow for you, the elm tree had said. But what kind of sorrow—a real and sincere sorrow, or the superficial and pedantic sorrow of the immortal for a frail and flickering creature that was about to die?”

“The fault of many of our artists and intellectuals lies in their original sin: they are not true revolutionaries. We can try to graft the elm tree so that it will bear pears, but at the same time we must plant pear trees. New generations will come that will be free of original sin.”

“Muse who in the past inspired me to sing of the throes of love:
Go and repose.
What I need is a sword, rivers of gold,
and acrid prose.”

“We must not forget, in all the enthusiasm for computer simulations, occasionally we must look at Nature as She is.”

“Magic was singing in me, through me; I felt the murmur of his power singing back that same song.”

“We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We forget the loves and the betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what we screamed, forget who we were.”

“And in the ghostly palm-trees the sleepy tune
Of the quiet voice calling me, the long low croon
Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.”

“Imagine if trees gave off wifi signals, we would be planting so many trees and we’d probably save the Planet too. Too bad they only produce the oxygen we breathe.”