“An absolute patience. Trees stand up to their knees in fog. The fog slowly flows uphill. White cobwebs, the grass leaning where deer have looked for apples. The woods from brook to where the top of the hill looks over the fog, send up not one bird. So absolute, it is no other than happiness itself, a breathing too quiet to hear.”
-Denise Levertov
“The breath must be enticed or cajoled, like catching a horse in a field, not by chasing after it, but by standing still with an apple in one’s hand.”
-B.K.S. Lyengar
“Why, he wondered, should he remember her suddenly, on such a day, watching the rain falling on the apple trees?”
-Daphne du Maurier
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