“My mind mends my motives and my notion navigates my natives,for we all are made of soil-our corrupted soil.”
“My God, the corruptions of literature. It put all these notions into our heads.”
“Our native soil draws all of us, by I know not what sweetness, and never allows us to forget.”
“I resolved to break the barren soil of my fruitless brain.”
“Leaves turned to soil beneath my feet. Thus it is, trees eat themselves.”
“He was my husband, my apartment mate, my soul mate, the father of the little plant in my confused soil, the lover who had made me adore his body without inhibition after my years of relative solitude, the person for whom I'd given up my old self.”