Quotes About Connection

inhabit that place. Wherever

And she takes him like someone who's sure that life has need of her.

A forest knows things. They wire themselves up underground. There are brains down there, ones our own brains aren't shaped to see. Root plasticity, solving problems and making decisions. Fungal synapses.

What we care for, we will grow to resemble. And what we resemble will hold us, when we are us no longer. . . .

You're the last bearable thing left to me, aside from death.

He stands near the planting, its black ring of soil like a promise at his feet.

High above Adam's prison, new creatures sweep up into satellite orbit and back down to the planet's surface, obeying the old, first hungers, the primal commands - look, listen, taste, touch, feel, say, join. They gossip to one other, these new species, exchanging discoveries, as living code has exchanged itself from the beginning. They begin to link up, to fuse together, to merge their cells and form small communities. There's no saying what they might become, in seventy plus seventy years.

I love your smell, she said. I told her, "You don't love me. You love my microbiome.

The greatest delight which the fields and woods minister, is the suggestion of an occult relation between man and the vegetable. I am not alone and unacknowledged. They nod to me, and I to them. The waving of the boughs in the storm, is new to me and old. It takes me by surprise, and yet is not unknown. Its effect is like that of a higher thought or a better emotion coming over me, when I deemed I was thinking justly or doing right. —RALPH WALDO EMERSON

Life is something we need to stop correcting. My boy was a pocket universe I could never hope to fathom.

Identity formation and Big Five personality factors among plants rights activists." "Or: Who does the tree-hugger really hug, when he hugs a tree?

I was thinking it's going to be cold again tonight. We may need to zip the bags together. I'm down with that. Every star in the galaxy rolls out above them, through the blue-black needles, in a river of spilled milk. The night sky- the best drug there was, before people came together into something stronger. They zip the bags together. You know, she says, if one of us falls, the other is going with. I'll follow you anywhere.

Being kind toward everything alive. Staying level and steady. Feeling happy for any creature anywhere that is happy. And remembering that any suffering is also yours.

There are a hundred thousand species of love, separately invented, each more ingenious than the last, and every one

For the first time, she realizes that being alone is a contradiction in terms.

They form in front of him: his friend, his wife, his daughter. People who loved him, who believed he'd do good things. In the mild April mist, he thinks: All I ever wanted was to make one slight noise that might delight you all. How small a thought it took. How small a thought.

for footprint and understanding.

He says there's nothing on Earth he can give to her, for their anniversary, to thank her for what she has given him. Nothing, except for a thing that grows.

L'amore è un ciclo di feedback dal desiderio alla condivisione, alla perdita. Un moto anti-hebbiano: le attivazioni si fanno sempre più fiacche. (p.243)

We'll meet you up there. When you come around.

the endless hostage swap of travelers east and west.

She stands with her nose in the bark, perversely intimate. She doses herself for a long time, like a hospice patient self-administering morphine. Chemicals rush down her windpipe, through the bloodstream to her body's provinces across the blood-brain barrier and into her thoughts. The smell grips her brain stem until she and the dead man are fishing side by side again, under the pine shade where the fish hide, in the soul's innermost national park.

But severed from yourself in the press of a crowd, you head back instinctively to the most recent landmark, hoping the lost other will hit on the same idea.

People. So much pain.