Quotes on Tree Trunks

The tears that kept Buttercup company the remainder of the day were not at all like those that had blinded her into the tree trunk. Those were noisy and hot; they pulsed. These were silent and steady and all they did was remind her that she wasn’t good enough. She was seventeen, and every male she’d ever known had crumbled at her feet and it meant nothing. The one time it really mattered, she wasn’t good enough.

For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack.

When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured.

Now the seasons are closing their files_x000D_ on each of us, the heavy drawers_x000D_ full of certificates rolling back_x000D_ into the tree trunks, a few old papers_x000D_ flocking away. Someone we loved_x000D_ has fallen from our thoughts,_x000D_ making a little, glittering splash_x000D_ like a bicycle pushed by a breeze._x000D_ Otherwise, not much has happened;_x000D_ we fell in love again, finding_x000D_ that one red feather on the wind.