Slowly We Became Silent, And Silence Itself

We Can Love Completely What We Cannot Completely Understand.

Ahead And To The West Was Our Ranger Station - And The Mountains Of Idaho, Poems Of Geology Stretching Beyond Any Boundaries And Seemingly Even Beyond The World.

The World Is Full Of Bastards, The Number Increasing Rapidly The Further One Gets From Missoula, Montana.

As For My Father, I Never Knew Whether He Believed God Was A Mathematician But He Certainly Believed God Could Count And That Only By Picking Up God's Rhythms Were We Able To Regain Power And Beauty. Unlike Many Presbyterians, He Often Used The Word "beautiful.

One Of Life's Quiet Excitements Is To Stand Somewhat Apart From Yourself And Watch Yourself Softly Becoming The Author Of Something Beautiful Even If It Is Only A Floating Ash.