“I am not like you,” the old woman said slowly. “I do not tell stories.
I see visions. I see that life is not a line but a circle. Why do men imagine
for themselves the illusory freedom of a soaring mind, so that the body
of nature becomes a cage? “Tis not true. To be human is to be circled in the cycles of nature, rooted in the processes that nurture us in life, breathing in and breathing out human life just as plants breathe in and out their
photosynthesis. . . “
—Elizabeth Dodson Gray
Green Paradise Lost