An act of love that fails is just as much a part of the divine life as an act of love that succeeds, for love is measured by its own fullness, not by its reception.
~ by Harold Loukes
In praise of redwoods, ancient trees:
I think that could the weary world but know
Communion with these spirits breathing peace
Strangely a veil would lift, a light would glow,
And the dark tumult of our lives would cease.