“A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never cease.”— John Muir, amazon.com
“What a psalm the storm was singing, and how fresh the smell of the washed earth and leaves, and how sweet the still small voices of the storm!”— John Muir, amazon.com
“I wanted to be a part of the fearless storm, to be one with it, to refuse to see myself as its passive victim or its naive, romantic worshipper falling down on my knees in a humility I didn’t possess. I wanted to be a part of the order and the chaos, the violence and the raging waters.”— Benjamin Alire Sáenz, narrativemagazine.com
“Storms and wars were always beginning and always ending, and we lived our lives in the aftermath. There must’ve already been some kind of body count. What was it about us that we measured our catastrophes in bodies? Maybe it consoled those of us who survived.”— Benjamin Alire Sáenz, narrativemagazine.com
“There is something compelling and seductive about a dangerous sky. The dark clouds made the city appear ancient and wise and civilized, made the buildings look like abandoned ruins that kept all the secrets of the dead.”— Benjamin Alire Sáenz, narrativemagazine.com