“Along with rising and falling water, winter is the province of wind. When the sea-breath and mountain-roar bend the hemlocks of these hills, the birds hang on as best they can.”

“When the wind stops, kite falls but bird flies; because bird did not borrow the wind when rising!”

“Along the coast the sea roars, and inland the mountains roar – the roaring at the center, like a distant clap of thunder.”

“Even as winter comes, mornings are crisp, and the big, blue sky seems to hang newly washed over the sea of hills.”

“They say that in the hour before an earthquake the clouds hang leaden in the sky, the winds slows to a hot breath, and the birds fall quiet in the trees of the town square. Yes but these are the same portents that precede lunchtime, frankly.”

“I liked the solitude and the silence of the woods and the hills. I felt there the sense of a presence, something undefined and mysterious, which was reflected in the faces of the flowers and the movements of birds and animals, in the sunlight falling through the leaves and in the sound of running water, in the wind blowing on the hills and the wide expanse of earth and sky.”