Quotes by : Deborah Heissler

Silence. First it’s a cloud of apricot trees in flower, yellow or ivory, like a thousand little butterflies....

And thenwe no longer distinguish far nor nearThey sleepdreamgather branchesfor this firethe cloud brewsagainst....

Everything had become song. The curve of the road beneath the clouds here, and there the strokes of dark....

Latefor the present, I supposeaccentuated each timeyou see, quick enoughthis fraction of earthunderfootthat....