“The violets in the mountains have broken the rocks.” – Barnstorming

There were patterns in the fog, spirals of intent on the point of leaving a message, then swept away. This ghostly calligraphy had a forlornness to it, as though the Dead were trying to tell us something they could not tell, as though language had floated away from meaning, leaving behind only signs, whispers, gestures.

“The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills.” The world can show you the truth, but no one can force you to accept it.

Archetypally, bones represent that which can never be destroyed.

¡Qué pena de los libros que nos llenan las manos de rosas y de estrellas y lentamente pasan! —Federico García Lorca

she had scrambled up the bare shoulders of the mountains to find company in the clouds that brooded on the hilltops. There, in the presence of something ancient and immutable, she found her comfort.

Tennessee Williams said, “A road can be straight, or a street, but human heart is curved like a road through mountains.”