Saurabh Levin

“It is not that love sometimes makes mistakes, but that it is, essentially, a mistake. We fall in love when our imagination projects nonexistent perfections on to another person. One day the phantasmagoria vanishes, and with it love dies. Ortega y Gasset, On Love”
― Samuel R. Delany, The Einstein Intersection

“Grass! Millions of square miles of it; numberless wind-whipped tsunamis of grass, a thousand sun-lulled caribbeans of grass, a hundred rippling oceans, every ripple a gleam of scarlet or amber, emerald or turquoise, multicolored as rainbows, the colors shivering over the prairies in stripes and blotches, the grasses – some high, some low, some feathered, some straight – making their own geography as they grow. There are grass hills where the great plumes tower in masses the height of ten tall men; grass valleys where the turf is like moss, soft under the feet, where maidens pillow their heads thinking of their lovers, where husbands lie down and think of their mistresses; grass groves where old men and women sit quiet at the end of the day, dreaming of things that might have been, perhaps once were. Commoners all, of course. No aristocrat would sit in the wild grass to dream. Aristocrats have gardens for that, if they dream at all.”
― Sheri S. Tepper, Grass

“Everything owns a sound, loud or soft. When sound hits a thing, it comes back an echo.

Mumbi said -Everything sends back a sound, however soft. If you listen to an echo with care, you can tell where it is coming from.

The ear is the eye of the soul. It sorts out the sound and the echo and tells us what makes the sound and where it is coming from”
― Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, The Perfect Nine: The Epic of Gĩkũyũ and Mũmbi

“She has seen dieback across the West. Aspens are withering. Grazed on by everything with hooves, cut off from rejuvenating fire, whole groves are vanishing. Now she sees a forest, spreading across these mountains since before humans left Africa, giving way to second homes. She sees it in one great glimpse of flashing gold: trees and humans, at war over the land and water and atmosphere. And she can hear, louder than the quaking leaves, which side will lose by winning.”
― Richard Powers, The Overstory