“My voice is born repeatedly in the fields of uncertainty.”
“Born to love you, baby,” he repeated. “Die lovin’ you, my Sylvie.”
“I once saw, on a flower pot in my own living room, the efforts of a field mouse to build a remembered field. I have lived to see this episode repeated in a thousand guises, and since I have spent a large portion of my life in the shade of a nonexistent tree I think I am entitled to speak for the field mouse.”
“Your name?” I repeated, hoping it was my imagination that my voice faltered.“Call me Patch. I mean it. Call me”
“We are born in a clear field and die in a dark forest.”
“Where there is uncertainty, I shall bring lightWhere there is doubt, I shall sow faithWhere there is shame, I shall point atonementWhere there is rage, I shall show its courseMy word in the soul shall be as my rifle in the field.”