Jenifer Pruim

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Anna Gavalda
“You think they're like your pencils? That they get worn down if you use them?"
"What?"
"Feelings.”
Anna Gavalda, Hunting and Gathering

Julie Zickefoose
“Much as the din and the feeling of being an unwilling insect carrier wore on my nerves, I still loved the Brood V hatch experience, the way I love big surf, thunderstorms, and oversized rat snakes. They're all reminders that nature is bigger, far bigger, and more powerful than we usually care to admit. Just as the hatch was starting, I stood in line at my favorite garden center behind a young man who was buying two gallons of a deadly liquid insecticide. He was hoping to stop the cicada hatch, to save his trees from what he was sure would be the death of them. The nursery manager rang up the sale, and his eyes met mine as the young man handed over his money. We shook our heads and smiled. I went home to watch the celebration.”
Julie Zickefoose, Letters From Eden: A Year at Home, in the Woods
tags: nature

Anna Gavalda
“You'd try to look elsewhere but you wouldn't be able to help yourself, and you'd look back again. Because there was something going on. There was some sort of special air around this person. Or a special light?
Yes. That was it.
If you just came in this crummy Lavomatic on the avenue de La Bourdonnais on December twenty-ninth at five o'clock in the afternoon and you saw this figure in the dreary neon lights, this is exactly what you would say to yourself: Holy shit. An angel.

Camille raised her eyes just then, saw him, did not react right away as if she had not recognized him, then finally smiled. A very faint smile, a slight brilliance, a little sign of recognition among regulars.
"Got your wings in there?" he asked, pointing to her bag.
"Sorry?"
"Nah, nothing.”
Anna Gavalda, Hunting and Gathering

Ellen Meloy
“Shall we be honest about this? The mind needs wild animals. The body needs the trek that takes it looking for them.”
Ellen Meloy, Eating Stone: Imagination and the Loss of the Wild

“The bugle call of a bull elk in a high mountain basin, the haunting voice of a screech owl on a moonlit night, the song of a white-throated sparrow on a cold winter's morning, or the resounding call of a wild turkey gobbler in spring - there are a certain few sounds in nature that seem to symbolize true wilderness. A gentle north wind moving through a remote forest of longleaf pine on a clear winter's day is one of those voices that stirs something deep inside of us. The grandest organ in the greatest cathedral is but a moan in the darkness by comparison.”
Joe Hutto, Illumination in the Flatwoods: A Season With The Wild Turkey

year in books
Abhainn...
114 books | 21 friends

Elizabe...
76 books | 65 friends

Ellie H...
722 books | 150 friends

Steven ...
8 books | 197 friends

Ruby Ha...
35 books | 12 friends

Rachael
85 books | 34 friends

Daniell...
58 books | 71 friends

Ann
Ann
242 books | 10 friends

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