In their cups they whisper the world, their roots rest in the infinite, but they are not lost in it, but they pursue with all the strength of their existence one thing only: to fulfill their own law, which resides in them, to develop their own form, to represent themselves. There is nothing more exemplary and more holy than a beautiful and strong tree. When a tree has been cut down and it shows its mortal wound to the world, in the clear circumference of its stock and monument all its history can be read: fences and deformations easily describe all its suffering, all the struggle, all the diseases, all the happiness and prosperity, the leafy years, the attacks overcome and the storms survived. And any young peasant knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest fences, that at the top of the mountains and in constant danger the strongest, most exemplary and indestructible trunks grow.
Trees are sanctuaries. Who knows how to speak for them, who knows how to listen to them, learns the truth. They do not preach doctrines and recipes; they preach indifferent to detail, the primitive law of life.
A tree says: in my life is hidden a nucleus, a spark, a thought, I am life of eternal life. The attempt and creation that Mother Earth has dared in me is unique. My mission is to shape and present the eternal in my unique marks.
A tree says: my strength is trust. I know nothing of my parents, I know nothing of thousands of shoots that every year come from me. I live to the end of the secret of my seed, I have no other concern. Trees have dilated thoughts, neat and serene, as well as a longer life than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we learn to listen to the trees, the brevity, speed, and infantile haste of our thoughts acquire unprecedented joy. Whoever has learned to listen to the trees no longer wants to be a tree. He doesn't want to be anything more than what he is.
Wandering: Notes and Sketches