Woods are grim places. Farmers shoot squirrels, crows, magpies, and hang them up on trees to warn Mother Nature to get it together or else. Much notice she takes, being in league with God. They're a right pair, more carnage than the rest of us put together.
Our pursuit of happiness is an addiction to us and a cancer to our planet.
A mother is like nature, she appreciates her childβs every mood.
One of the great advantages of cremation - apart from all sanitary conditions - lies in the swift restoration to Mother Nature of the material elements composing the physical and astral corpses, brought about by the burning.
Mother Nature just gave me the ultimate physique.
