Every piece of the bark of a ponderosa pine fits together… and comes apart. It is a kind of hieroglyphic language — a special one, in which each word is unique and used once only.

I see pattern in that, just on the edge of understanding.  If I could read all the bark of all the pines in the world, I’m pretty sure I’d have a map of the universe, or at least a chunk of it.

These are libraries that serve to protect trees from fire. That’s a good use for books.

This was the first language I read.

What I’ve learned so far is that understanding is not the goal.