“Back then life was simple and sweet. Everything was simple and sweet. The taste of cherries, the cool shade, the fresh smell of the river. That was how we lived, in a vale among the hills, sheltered from the storms. Ignorant of the world, as though on an island. Peaceful and untroubled. And then. Then everything changed.”
“What a psalm the storm was singing, and how fresh the smell of the washed earth and leaves, and how sweet the still small voices of the storm!”
“The sun is simple. A sword is simple. A storm is simple. Behind everything simple is a huge tail of complicated.”
“Little things. The thought of losing them makes them unbearably dear ... I only think of the sweetness. Simple things. The quarter moon, the taste of an orange. The smell of the pages of a new book.”
“So the freshness lives onin a lemon,in the sweet-smelling house of the rind,the proportions, arcane and acerb.”
“I know how to live here, I know how everything smells, and tastes, and is. What could I ever search for in the world, except this again?”