Look into the quiet place and ask it what you are. I am of course an atheist. When I look at creation I see the great and ready-made chaos, proliferating always like the strain of some disease. I cannot see in anything the hand of some kind scientist, observing us as Harlow did his lovelorn simians. But in this chaos there’s a fire clean and pure, a reason still to learn what’s here and make at last a perfect lore.
i love the fields that stretch to where the eye fades and the thick remote forest that gives emerald shades with oaken branches, and wild hard fruit, heavily laden where the wolf hides, and shepherds watch over the herds
i am at home,when i roam the flat green wheat fields sizzling locusts make them ripe, while the sun gilds and they stretch to horizon line, like a green carpet that sways to every winds breathing, smooth like velvet
fair and meek is the wind of the hilly rocky mountains where i haunt the place, homely...