Though they crawl on the gilded borders of illuminated manuscripts from another time, often seen as marginalia, I see moths as living oracles who do not speak but quietly land on the surface of things, often as a disturbance calling our attention to the importance of all that is hidden.
excerpt from the Foreword by Terry Tempest Williams in the volume of photography entitled, Mariposas Nocturnas by Emmit Gowin, 2017
“Marriages have stages. They have incarnations, almost,” Mercy explains. “You can be in a good marriage and you can be in a bad marriage, and they can both be the same one but just at different times.”
An exquisite cup, less than two inches across, of felted plant, fern or dandelion-seed down, covered so perfectly with moss and lichens and fastened with spider webs as to appear a mere protuberance on the limb, and lined with a layer of the finest down.
from Birds of America, 1936 – Garden City Publishing Company, Inc.
“Life seems to have no beginning and no ending. Only the steady expansion of trunk and root, the slow pileup of duff and debris, the lap of water before it becomes ice, the patter of raindrops before they turn to snowflakes.”