Quotes About Harmony

The green things of this world are just wondrous, aren't they?" his mother went on. "We work so hard to get rid of them when sometimes they're the very thing that saves us.

Why can't we learn to live with how we are? And whatever anybody chooses is okay by the rest of us?

Like how stars might sound. Or moons But not mountains. Too floaty for mountains. It's a sound like one planet singing to another, high stretched and full of different voices starting at different notes and sloping down to other different notes but all weaving together in a rope of sound that's sad but not sad and slow but not slow and all singing one word. One word.

Let the battle for peace commence

The green things of this world are just wondrous, aren't they? We work so hard to get rid of them when sometimes they're the very thing that saves us.

People began to live ON the earth rather than WITHIN it

I want a world where you can live and be happy.

an act that didn't feel like penetration, but like combination

No siempre hay un bueno. Ni siempre hay un malo. Casi todo el mundo está en un punto intermedio.

I am the Circle and the Circle is me

They're fighting a war over who can be more peaceful.

Soothe your throats. Injustice has not followed you here.

if you could just get people to talk, he believed, the most bitter antagonists could discover common ground.

We are more than the parts that form us.

Why would I want to win anything other than a beautiful game?

Each woman is like an instrument, waiting to be learned, loved, and finely played, to have at last her own true music made.

She'd strayed from the true way of things. First you set yourself to rights. And then your house. And then your corner of the sky. And after that... Well, then she didn't rightly know what happened next. But she hoped that after that the world would start to run itself a bit, like a gear-watch proper fit and kissed wit oil. That was what she hoped would happen.

Maple. Maypole Catch and carry. Ash and Ember. Elderberry. Woolen. Woman. Moon at night. Willow. Window. Candlelight. Fallow farrow. Ash and oak. Bide and borrow. Chimney smoke. Barrel. Barley. Stone and stave. Wind and water. Misbehave.

Lovely as the moon: not flawless, perhaps, but perfect.

Maple. Maypole Catch and carry. Ash and Ember. Elderberry. Woolen. Woman. Moon at night. Willow. Window. Candlelight. Fallow farrow. Ash and oak. Bide and borrow. Chimney smoke. Barrel. Barley. Stone and stave. Wind and water. Misbehave.Maple. Maypole Catch and carry. Ash and Ember. Elderberry. Woolen. Woman. Moon at night. Willow. Window. Candlelight. Fallow farrow. Ash and oak. Bide and borrow. Chimney smoke. Barrel. Barley. Stone and stave. Wind and water. Misbehave.

Each woman is like an instrument, waiting to be learned, loved, and finely played, to have at last her own true music made. Some might take offense at this way of seeing things, not understanding how a trouper views his music. They might think I degrade women. They might consider me callous, or boorish, or crude. But those people do not understand love, or music, or me.

Music explains itself...It is the road and it is the map that shows the road. It is both together.

She laughed so sweet and loud and long it sounded like a bell, a harp, a song.

Poetry is a song without music. A song without music is like a body without a soul.