“...There is a path...
a fractured path of twists and knobby hills and pebbles and weeds and flowers...
one path ceaselessly carved from sunup to sunset, with mud puddles and stumble-over roots and astonishing vistas of truth...
where deeply inhaled smells of sea salt and wet earth and lilacs and clover intermingle in the wide open...
where countless unassuming corners are steadily reached and passed by every day
to reveal priceless souvenirs of the passage of living.” cmw 6/06