Sublime

Their existence gives the lie to the thought that the wild is always something untouched by human hearts and hands. The wild can be human work.

The kind of madness I had was different. It was quiet, and very, very dangerous. It was a madness designed to keep me sane.

knew I wasn’t mad mad because I’d seen people in the grip of psychosis before, and that was madness as obvious as the taste of blood in the mouth.

I’m going to settle for small, random stabs of extreme interestingness – moments of intense awareness of the things I’m about to lose, and of gladness that they exist

We carry the lives we’ve imagined as we carry the lives we have, and sometimes a reckoning comes of all of the lives we have lost.

‘Every Wingèd Thing’,