“Is it love that connects us, is that what it is? I never knew that the feeling I have is regular old love because it's so-intricate. Perhaps there is another name for it, one we don't yet know. I used to think that love was simple and noticeable, like rain falling, so that just as you'd look at your skin and say Water, you would also wake in the morning and say Love. But it has been underneath, this new and old thing I feel, subterranean, silent and steady, like blood, rushing along and along without often making itself known.” ThinkingKnowsFeelsLooksHas BeensFeelingsUsedFallNamesWaterSimpleLove IsKnownMorningBloodRainSkinsSilentSteadyRushingIntricateOld ThingsOld LoveRain Falling Author:Jane Hamilton
“There were so many miracles at work: that a blossom might become a peach, that a bee could make honey in its thorax, that rain might someday fall. I thought then about the seasons changing, and in the gray of night I could almost will myself to see the azure sky, the gold of the maple leaves, the crimson of the ripe apples, the hoarfrost on the grass.” MightNightFallSkyRainGoldSeasonsMiracleGrassApplesSomedayGrayHoneyBeesRipePeachesCrimsonMapleAzureSeasons Change Author:Jane Hamilton
