Scrutinous Scribbler

“The Greeks had a word, xenia—guest friendship—a command to take care of traveling strangers, to open your door to whoever is out there, because anyone passing by, far from home, might be God. Ovid tells the story of two immortals who came to Earth in disguise to cleanse the sickened world. No one would let them in but one old couple, Baucis and Philemon. And their reward for opening their door to strangers was to live on after death as trees—an oak and a linden—huge and gracious and intertwined. What we care for, we will grow to resemble. And what we resemble will hold us, when we are us no longer. . . .”
― Richard Powers, The Overstory

“Skink drank another beer and yowled at the sky. Decades of hermitage had kept him barely on keel but his turbulent aversions never waned. He’d fled the governor’s mansion with his values intact but his idealism extinguished, his patience smashed to dust. Politics had scrambled his soul much worse than the war, and he left behind in Tallahassee not only his name but the discredited strategy of forbearance and compromise. The cherished wild places of his youth vanished under cinder blocks and asphalt, and so, too, had the rest of the state been transformed—hijacked by greedy suckworms disguised as upright citizens. From swampy lairs Skink would strike back wherever an opportunity arose, and the message was never ambiguous. Even schmucks like Jackie Sebago got the point.”
― Carl Hiaasen, Star Island

“A great truth comes over him: Trees fall with spectacular crashes. But planting is silent and growth is invisible.”
― Richard Powers, The Overstory

“There's a Chinese saying. 'When is the best time to plant a tree? Twenty years ago.' "
The Chinese engineer smiles. "Good one."
" 'When is the next best time? Now.' "
"Ah! Okay!" The smile turns real. Until today, he has never planted anything. But Now, that next best of times, is long, and rewrites everything.”
― Richard Powers, The Overstory