For a long time then I seemed to live by a slender thread of faith, spun out from within me. From this single thread I spun strands that joined me to the good things of the world. And then I spun more threads that joined all the strands together, making a life. When it was complete, or nearly so, it was shapely and beautiful in the light of day. It endured through the nights, but sometimes it only barely did. It would be tattered and set awry by things that fell or blew or fled or flew. Many of the strands would be broken. Those I would have to spin and weave again in the morning.
—Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry
a Monterey Pine and Coast Live Oak lock arms #californialivin (Taken with Instagram at Jacks Peak County Park)
When political systems decay it does not mean that man ceases to be a political animal; it merely means that man has discovered an instrument which more perfectly expresses his political needs and instincts. The death of an institution means more life, not less. An outworn creed means more truth, not less. Every death means a larger life.
—Clarence R. Skinner, The Social Implications of Universalism (1915)