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Quote by Gretel Ehrlich

“In the evenings the boat spun on its anchor and mist fell to its knees, raining directly into seawater. Trees grew on red buoys, bald eagles lifted out of dark trunks like white-steepled chapels, a raven ate a crab in the boat's crow's nest, and schools of herring, who sometimes migrate in rolled-up balls five or six inches thick, broad-jumped the incoming tide.”

Quote by Gretel Ehrlich

Work

A Match to the Heart: One Woman's Story of Being Struck By Lightning

This memoir offers a candid look into the life-altering event of being struck by lightning and the subsequent journey of healing and self-discovery. The author shares her experiences, emotions, and the challenges she faced, providing readers with a unique perspective on resilience and the human spirit. more

Author

Gretel Ehrlich
Gretel Ehrlich

Gretel Ehrlich is an American writer known for her profound insights into the relationship between humans and the natural world. Her works are typically presented in the form of poetry and prose, exploring the complex relationship between humans and the natural world. more

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“As madcap whitecaps hammered at the hulls, the bowsprits breasting saw-toothed waves now high and mighty, now abject, the Sun looked down and watched the boats—so bantam, meek, and of no consequence—become engulfed by stormclouds smothering the sallow sea. A norther hurled its curses at the fleet as in return garboards and sheerstrakes groaned amidst the helter-skelter of loud shouts. With drenched and veiny arms the tillers clenched the quarter rudders, trying to prevent the roaring ocean, frothing at the mouth, from swallowing the ships they’d sworn to guide while thinking: Who, in the last instance, can withstand its infinite, digestive force? Anon this beast became a lesser cause for fear, supplanted by the high-pitched shrieks of something neither man nor animal that lurked beyond them in the ebon drear, its contour barely visible by turns when intermittent bolts transpierced the sky. (Canaäd, XV 271-91)”

“She had never seen the Tree House at night. Vast and dark, lit with candles for the occasion, the rooms looked magical, the staircase a citadel, with its own strange inglenooks and deep dusty treads. In the fireplace, instead of wood, a great gong and mallet hung from a stand. The rooms were filled with couches and mismatched armchairs, and floor cushions, some with cats, and some without. Living ivy climbed to the ceiling and outlined every aperture. In the candlelight the ivy-framed bay window became a bower, the doorways passages to secret gardens.”

“Looks like you brought us a souvenir," said Nagare, plucking a plum petal from the jacket's shoulder. "Oh," said Shuji, staring at the petal in Nagare's hand. "Must have fallen on me at the shrine." "How does that tanka go again?" said Koishi. Then she recited: When the east wind blows, Let it send your fragrance, Oh plum blossoms. Although your master is gone, Do not forget the spring. "Something like that, anyway." Nagare nodded. "Love is a force to be reckoned with. But it can also be a pretty short-lived affair." He blew into his hand and the petal went fluttering into the air.”