Whitebark Pine Quotes & Sayings

How is it you've never married?" A soft splash. "It's an easy enough thing. Every morning I wake up, go about my day, and return to bed at night without having recited marriage vows. After several years, I have the trick of it down. — Tessa Dare

To create a happy world, peace for men will not be enough; we need peace for animals as well! — Mehmet Murat Ildan

Tom Dancer's gift of a whitebark pine cone

You never know
What opportunity
Is going to travel to you,
Or through you.

Once a friend gave me
A small pine cone-
One of a few
He found in the scat

Of a grizzly
In Utah maybe,
Or Wyoming.
I took it home

And did what I supposed
He was sure I would do-
I ate it,
Thinking

How it had traveled
Through that rough
And holy body.
It was crisp and sweet.

It was almost a prayer
Without words.
My gratitude, Tom Dancer,
For this gift of the world
I adore so much
And want to belong to.
And thank you too, great bear — Mary Oliver

I have thought I am creature of a day, passing through life as an arrow through the air. I am a spirit come from God and returning to God; just hovering over the great gulf, till a few moments hence I am no more seen. I drop into an unchangeable eternity! I want to know one thing, the way to heaven
how to land safe on that happy shore. God himself has condescended to teach the way: for this very end he came from heaven. He hath written it down in a book. O give me that book! At any price give me the Book of God! I have it. Here is knowledge enough for me. Let me be homo unius libri [a man of one book]. — John Wesley

A week after Jacque and Fane's ceremony, Decebel had gotten in his Hummer and, without looking back, driven away from the pack mansion. And 62 days, 4 hours, and 22 minutes later he still hadn't returned. But who's counting? — Quinn Loftis

I'll talk to Howard Stern about anything. I listen to him every day. I love him. When you go on his show, you kind of have to be an open book. — Ross Mathews

Burning the small dead branches broke from beneath thick spreading whitebark pine. A hundred summers snowmelt rock and air hiss in a twisted bough. — Gary Snyder