Trees are the earth's endless effort to speak to the listening heaven.
Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky. We fell them down and turn them into paper, that we may record our emptiness.
So long as you cling to your fear of dying, you will hear neither the voice of life nor the voice of your soul. A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy.