wanderlust

Sometimes, when the light strikes at odd angles and pulls you back into childhood and you are passing a crumbling mansion completely hidden behind old willows or an empty convent guarded by hemlocks and giant firs standing hip to hip, you know again that behind that wall, under the uncut hair of the willows something secret is going on, so marvellous and dangerous that if you crawled through and saw, you would die, or be happy forever.

lisel mueller

In the novel or the journal you get the journey. In a poem you get the arrival.

may sarton

The hard surface of the stone is impervious to nothing in the end. The heat of the sun leaves evidence of daylight. Each drop of rain changes the form; even the wind and the air itself, invisible to our eyes, etches its presence. All history is taken in by stones.

susan griffin, a chorus of stones