In some mysterious way woods have never seemed to me to be static things. In physical terms, I move through them; yet in metaphysical ones, they seem to move through me.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
The woods were a boon; all too often, the forest offered danger and mystery. Yet it could be liberating. If you entered that wild place on its own terms, you might be accorded wisdom.
I'm not good at being static. I have to be climbing a mountain.
My father, who was a cabinetmaker, told me, 'Wood has a grain and if you go into the grain, you have beauty. If you go against it, you have splinters - it breaks.' And I took that as my view of life. You have to follow the grain - to be sensitive to the direction of life.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.
In the middle of the journey of our life I came to myself within a dark wood where the straight way was lost.
I have gone to the forest.
When you get to know someone, you find there's something nasty in their woodshed.
I do have a side of me that would just love to be stuck in the woods and have to stick it out and be really resourceful.
Just touching that old tree was truly moving to me because when you touch these trees, you have such a sense of the passage of time, of history. It's like you're touching the essence, the very substance of life.
You find yourself in the world, without any power, immovable as a rock, stupid, so to speak, as a log of wood.