“All well and good, but for our purposes these otherwise-valuable insights are mere subplots almost designed to carry us down side trails while blithely humming a tune about the rough equivalence of forests and trees.”

“In the long run, most of us spend about fifteen minutes total in the entanglements of passion, and the rest of our days looking back on it, humming the tune.”

“Standing at the edge of the dark forest, he kissed me. The forest shook, trembled. Where snow touched the trees, white flecks rose into the air and danced on the hands of the wind. Branches waved. Trees swayed, bending to almost break. Or maybe it was me, us. Maybe it was us moving while the rest of the world stood still.”

“Dance me slowly along a moonlit path,Soaked with light from moon and stars above,Hold my hand and whistle a tune,Dance me slowly to the edge of Love.Waltz here with me on forest grass,Soft ballet pirouettes round sun dappled trees,Hold my hand and hum a tune,Catch my freshly blown kiss off the breeze.”

“Our minds, as well as our bodies, have need of the out-of-doors. Our spirits, too, need simple things, elemental things, the sun and the wind and the rain, moonlight and starlight, sunrise and mist and mossy forest trails, the perfumes of dawn and the smell of fresh-turned earth and the ancient music of wind among the trees.”

“Rather than bring the full force of our creativity and rationality to bear on the problems of ethics, social cohesion, and even spiritual experience, moderates merely ask that we relax our standard of adherence to ancient superstitions and taboos, while otherwise maintaining a belief system that was passed down to us from men and women whose lives were simply ravaged by their basic ignorance about the world.”