What a thing it is to sit absolutely alone, in the forest, at night, cherished by this wonderful, intelligible, perfectly innocent speech, the most comforting speech in the world, the talk that rain makes by itself all over the ridges, and the talk of the watercourses everywhere in the hollows! Nobody started it, nobody is going to stop it. It will talk as long as it wants, this rain. As long as it talks, I am going to listen.
Love is spirit incarnate: powerful, courageous, and splendid. It is light in dark times, a spring in dry times, a fire in cold times, and a gathering of allies in the fearful and questioning times. It is not ignorant of consequences or uncaring of effects. And, it is passionate and disciplined, wild and domesticated, a demanding task and a delightful play … a paradox, a presence with many faces.
