I was hanging onto that tree and I prayed. Dude, I prayed so good I thought I might become a preacher.

To rise above tree line is to go above thought, and after, the descent back into birdsong, bog orchids, willows, and firs is to sink into the preliterate parts of ourselves.

If I thought I was going to die tomorrow, I should nevertheless plant a tree today.

It's over what we thought it would be. We didn't expect to have that much.

You can't pick cherries with your back to the tree.

The pine tree seems to listen, the fir tree to wait: and both without impatience -- they give no thought to the little people beneath them devoured by their impatience and their curiosity.