“I have no fear here, in this world of trees, weeds, and growing things.”

“Fear is a strange soil. It grows obedience like corn, which grow in straight lines to make weeding easier. But sometimes it grows the potatoes of defiance, which flourish underground.”

“Then they grow away from the earth then they grow away from the sunthen they grow away from the plants and the animals.They see no life.When they lookthey see only objects.The world is a dead thing for themthe trees and the rivers are not alive.the mountains and stones are not alive.The deer and bear are objects.They see no life.They fear.They fear the world.They destroy what they fear.They fear themselves.”

“I am not perfect." It came out in a rush of breath. "See I thought I was. Thank God I ain't. See a perfect thing ain't got a chance. The world kills it, everything perfect. (Listen to him!) Now see a thing that ain't perfect, it grows like a weed. Yeah, like a weed! A thing that ain't perfect gets hand clapping, smiles, takes the wire an easy winner. But the world ain't set up right if you perfect. You lible to run right into a brick wall. Looks like suicide. All the weeds say, looka there, it suicide!”

“Small herbs have grace, great weeds to grow apace.”

“Here where all the trees grow in rows; the palms stand stiffly by the roadsides, and in the groves the orange trees line in military rows, and endlessly bear fruit. Beautiful, yes; there is always beauty in order, in rows of growing things! But it is the beauty of captivity.”