“You ought to see it when it blooms, all dark red flowers from horizon to horizon, like a see of blood. Come the dry season, and the world turns the color of old bronze. And this is only hranna, child. There are hundred kinds of grass out there, grasses as yellow as lemon and as dark as indigo, blue grasses and orange grasses and grasses as rainbows.”
“Emptiness is bound to bloom, like hundreds of grasses blossoming.”
“What long-dead face makes here the grass so green?On what earth-buried bosom do we lean?Ah! love, when we in turn are grass and flowers,By what kind eyes to come shall we be seen?”
“In my head, the sky is blue, the grass is green and cats are orange.”
“You turn dark shadows into canopies of hope and dry grass into gold.My heart is spoiled and my breath consumed when the beauty of earthgives a glimmer of understanding to the beauty of You.”
“It was nice standing out in the darkness, in the damp grass, with spring coming on and a feeling in my heart of imminent disaster.”