I've been navigating the path through this book for some time now; it's difficult at times, for me. . . everything hits home in such a dramatic, way. . . as though it were a book of confirmation. [I'm not Catholic LOL].
I've shared this excerpt with several friends, it's from the first chapter [ 'The Maytrees' by Anne Dillard ]. . . if that is any indication of what is to be found deeper into the novel. It's so applicable to everyone, really; So I'm sharing it here, now.
It's simple. . mind you. But it's somehow, just right, just . . enough.
" There were unsolved crimes out in this wilderness including murder. Not many years after Lou and Maytree met, someone murdered the Woman in the Dunes. The killer beheaded her and cut off her hands. Searchers found the rest of her, raped. They found only one sandy hand. No one ever found who she was, or her killer, or her other hand, or her head. Dreary's Boston mother assumed she lived in a locked house in town.
Now Dreary built a piney fire for making cowboy coffee. Her head was a globe. From a side part, her curls rose like a laurel wreath and set close behind her ears. A piece of green cloth, safety-pinned, bound one of her hands.
-What happened to your hand?
-I'm one step closer to death. She was enthusiastic.
-Who isn't? Maytree's height was drawing the smoke.
Dreary crossed her legs. -you see, she said to Lou, as soon as you arrive, you start hurting yourself. You burn this fingertip. Later you cut yourself- right there, on the side. Paper cut in the webbing, and years later, another beside where it healed.
Lou knew all along that Dreary originated theories.
-Another time you bang a knuckle, and maybe twenty years later you pinch its other side. With each injury you learn how that patch feels. It wakens. Until it heals, you're aware of those nerves.
-This is a privilege?
-Of course, Every place you injure adds that patch to your consciousness. You grow more alive. And the point of all this is - she beamedup from the sand at Lou--that when you have hurt every single place on your body, you die! Once you have felt every last nerve ending, at least on your skin, then you have lived in full awareness. Then you die.
Dreary had a pleased toothy smile. The two left her. . .before the sun got worse. "
I THOUGHT of your beauty, and this arrow,
Made out of a wild thought,
is in my marrow.
There's no man may look upon her, no man,
As when newly grown to be a woman,
Tall and noble but with face and bosom
Delicate in colour as apple blossom.
This beauty's kinder, yet for a reason
I could weep that the old is out of season.
cars
homes
jobs
health
Ewww lol
The Arrow 
The Arrow