The oaks of 1910 were now ten years old and taller than either of us. It was such an impressive sight that I was struck dumb, and, as he never spoke, we spent the whole day in silence walking through his forest. When I reminded myself that all this was the work of the hand and soul of this one man, with no mechanical help, it seemed to me that after all we might be as effective as God in tasks other than destruction.
Come, let's away to prison: We two alone will sing like birds in a cage: When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down, And ask of thee forgiveness: so we'll live, and pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh at gilded butterflies ... and take upon us the mystery of things, as if we were God's spies ...
