“I shall weave a suit of leaves. At once. With acorns for buttons.”
“My house was once an acorn.”
“All of my creation is an effort to weave a web of connection with the world: I am always weaving it because it was once broken.”
“Dude.. where's your suit? Just once, when I say "suit up" I wish you'd put on a suit.”
“His harmonic words could weave the fabric of time or spin matter from nothingness if the mood suited him.”
“Home is a room dappled with firelight: there are pictures and books. And when the rain sighs, and the acorns fall, there are patterns of leaves against the drawn curtains. Home is where I was safe. Home is what I fled from.”