Quotessence
Home / Authors / Ruth Ann Oskolkoff

Ruth Ann Oskolkoff Quotes

Author

Filter quotes by topic

AllTamesaTamesasTamesisThamesBoadiceaBoudicaBoudiccaCeltsIceniLondon

Famous Ruth Ann Oskolkoff Quotes

“The walk across the street can seem long, like walking across town. Grown-ups with real magic sometimes seem very ordinary. If you know of anyone who is a really good person, they will probably seem imperfect when you talk to them. The best drawings are simple. Special things can seem plain. The voyage to the sun is inside you.”

SimpleMagicOrdinaryGoodImperfectionInsidePlain
Book:Voyage to the Sun: A Children's Version of the Tao te Ching
Create image

“I won't give in to despair while stars are beautiful in the night sky and know we cannot leave here while it is always midnight, and there is only that hope that we grasped and pulled down from these skies. Here where it is midnight we cling to the play of children lining up little tiny drops of joy, small shimmers we hap to wish upon for two blooms in spring, three sparrows to sing to me, and four kisses in the sudden flash of summer.”

HopeDespairMidnightTwo Three And Four
Book:The Bones of the Poor
Create image

“Now we can arise from the ruins and do something better. We have freedom to explore the human soul. I believe in magic. In some sort of divine. In spirit. That we are all connected. I think modern subatomic physics informs what we know of the universe—that reality is strange, and connected where we don’t see it right away, that there is being, where our modern education has taught us there is only empty mechanistic material, as well as nothingness. But there surely is nobility. And beauty. And love. Yes, and miracles. And hope.”

LoveInspirationalSoulSpiritualityHopeBeautyMagicDivineConnectionMiracles
Book:Zin
Create image

“A good bus rider likes to take the bus, looking out the window, talking to others on the way. The trip on the bus is fun; it is not just about getting there. A good painter tries to think about what she is feeling inside her imagination, her thoughts. It is not just about painting what something looks like. A good science student likes thinking about ideas, tries to find out how things work. It is not just about learning one tiny piece of the universe.”

UniversePainterFeelingStudentBus Rider
Book:Voyage to the Sun: A Children's Version of the Tao te Ching
Create image

“I hear the soldier’s footsteps right outside From Roman legions that are hunting me— A mother, warrior, Boudica, queen. That swarm of angry hornets aims to sting My skin with fire, piercing me with pain. I will never accept an end like that. Now happily spared the brutality Since you opened up the door to hide me, Anam Cara, you prove to be a friend, To help in my hour of direst need Just as we had previously agreed.”

WarriorQueenCeltsBoudiccaBoadiceaBoudicaIceni
Book:The Bones of the Poor
Create image

“Very soon, I will be travelling there With the great heron out to the North Sea To dance with the deep, where I will just be; Roaming the headwaters and tidal flats Liminal as light upon the surface, In waves that crash on rounded marshy coasts. Think of me as the sun rises each dawn When you feel that surge of an inner strength With each ephemeral moment of time. I know I will be there eternally, Immersed, one with the great estuary.”

DeathWarriorQueenCeltsBoudiccaBoadiceaBoudicaIceni
Book:The Bones of the Poor
Create image

“Listen close—my previous life was good. My mind has many pleasant memories: Camping on the Wensome’s chalk river shores, Running in green fields, picking spring flowers, Exploring the sand dunes and pine forests, A picnic on the mud flats, carefree days At home with my family in the village, Watching the terns, sedge warblers and swallows, Lessons in cooking and animal care, Untamed rivers and lakes, games with my friends, Sandy beaches, marshes, fens, and reed beds, The barn owl who liked to sing every night, Stirring conversations with my husband, Mundane chores alongside both my daughters, Magical countryside, large gray stone blocks, Tall flint walls in a nearby Roman town, Spongy saltmarsh, woodlands, and butterflies. It was all a gift, all blessed—and now I feel an unexpected clarity.”

WarriorQueenCeltsBoudiccaBoadiceaBoudicaIceni
Book:The Bones of the Poor
Create image

“They had freedom as before, but without their vast riches. These previously privileged had what everyone else did, and were not given compensation, like some had predicted. In an instant, they had been turned into regular human beings. In one loud terrifying moment, people became equal within the law and as recipient of benefits. Before then, the entire revolution had seemed impossible. Although it was amazingly bloodless, these changes were welcomed by most and only resisted by a minute number who still could not see the benefit.”

RevolutionEqualEqualityPrivilegedBloodless
Book:Zin
Create image

“The two friends enjoyed wandering through this place. It was small. Only a city block. Unobtrusive. This was where some of the pioneer workers of Seattle were laid to rest. Laborers who worked in sawmills. Regular folk born when Seattle was a mill town. Regular working class, now buried under ground stones. These folk had to fight to simply survive. Remembered by their children and grandchildren, they worked for a better tomorrow for those they loved. These people had smiled, and danced, and hoped. They had lived. Now buried, most had no fancy education to show for their troubles. They were not part of the elite, yet those who lay here were great. These souls were not the most renowned or powerful, but were, in truth, the best of the world. As Zin and Obia wandered through, they saw various headstones were flat, unobtrusive, and resting in the grass. Right in the ground, without any markers.”

PoorWorking ClassCemeteryLaborers
Book:Zin
Create image

“I lay on the grasses in rolling fog, In yellow hayrattle and fairy flax, By the dusky moorland and blanket bog; The snipe chirps out her plaintive monologue, A skylark warbles while diving her tracks, I lay on the grasses in rolling fog; Sky continues his subtle dialogue, The sun recites hymns to the zodiacs, By the dusky moorland and blanket bog; The peaceful clouds roll by in epilogue Casting shadows of forgotten syntax, I lay on the grasses in rolling fog; The meadow hums in ancient analog, Oxeye daisies keep their secretive pacts By the dusky moorland and blanket bog; I need no other church or synagogue Within my particular parallax, I lay on the grasses in rolling fog By the dusky moorland and blanket bog.”

FogBogMeadowGrassesMoorlandOxey Mead Park
Book:The Bones of the Poor
Create image

“For Zin, it felt like the center of space and time, in that moment. As if the whole of the universe began and ended here, and there was nothing more central. It was a hallowed moment. Undeniably sacred. There was no individual ego, but rather a united circle. The Grand Entry moved in harmony with the spheres of the heavens. An energetic, circular hoop of energy and prayer in the form of tribal dancers.”

HarmonySacredSacrednessCircleTribalHoopAlaskan NativePotlatch
Book:Zin
Create image

“The revolution began in the mid-twenty-first century, after a few earlier false starts. It essentially happened when the Gulf Stream suddenly stopped. The methane released from melting tundra was too much. Only then did people walk out to the streets. They were completely non-violent, but it was positively everyone. Civilization basically shut down. Each person brought something to make noise with, and the sound was deafening. Many had gathered in the centers of power and raised the decibel level.”

RevolutionNoiseNon Violent
Book:Zin
Create image

“Numerous gifted objects; black granite Etchings, carved statues, broken goddesses, Inscriptions, pottery, jewelry, rough-hewn Garnets, flowers, consecrated herbs, skulls, Gold ornaments, weapons, prized artifacts; Sacrifices, ancestors’ ageless prayers Left with olden Father Thames. For them, The sinuous streams were alive, full worlds Of votive offerings inside murky depths, Lifeblood pleas, observances thereafter Troubles now vanished, solemn promises, Treasures carefully bestowed upon Spirits, watchful deities; faithfully Invoking his ancient name Tamesas.”

LondonRiverPaganThamesOfferingsTamesaTamesasTamesis
Book:The Bones of the Poor
Create image

“From seasonal splashes near Trewsbury European eels migrate upstream; Myriad carp, redfin perch, brook lamprey, Dragonflies, mosquitoes, wee midges, Pale cormorant, herring gulls, wagtails, Swans glide round woodland tapestry, Braided channel islands rest alone, Arched medieval stone slab bridges, Tree lines fête ash, alder, chestnut, beech. Floodplains, tangled sedge reedbeds, Owls speed above tree-covered islets, Teaming alluvium water-meadows Growing lavender, iris, marigold.”

LondonRiverThamesTamesaTamesasTamesis
Book:The Bones of the Poor
Create image

“Some sudden light illuminates my mind. Serene as tufted clouds in summer skies Slowly floating through the expanse of air. Calm like the lark who watches from her perch. Weightless like a small dandelion seed. Freedom. I can float away with the breeze. I feel attuned to the sun and the sky, To the yellow oxlip, rosettes of leaves, Clusters of spring flowers under the trees. I feel a presence and sense life rising, Spirit in all things, living soul, divine Shimmer of being within, so sublime.”

LightWarriorQueenCeltsBoudiccaBoadiceaBoudicaIceni
Book:The Bones of the Poor
Create image

“This light represents the finest of all of us: Our art, poetry and songs, discoveries, creations, and science. Our ability to pick ourselves up from a broken, mad, fractured life and feel part of another, and be part of whatever this universe is. To have a little bit of hope in spite of the madly ruthless, even horrific, drumbeat of history. In the midst of ruin, to discover some sort of unimaginable grace. To hide from death for yet one more day. On this, the darkest day, people will light a candle for all of that.”

ArtLightSciencePoetryHopeGraceCandleSongsDiscoveriesCreations
Book:Zin
Create image