The stars shining in the grass, hanging in beads from each blade, inflamed by the sunlight . . .
The mountain, with its intricate web of caverns and tunnels and mines, that is each tree stump!
The epic untold story of one lonely hero despised as a villain: the misunderstood wasp . . .
The romance in a single beautiful flower!
The heartrending struggle of a mosquito . . .
The tragedy of the rotting log . . .
The adventure of a raindrop . . .
O what private knowledge has the bird,
What secret has she overheard?
Why does she sing so lofty and snide,
What human folly she deride?
What dream hangs from a spider’s web?
What legend does a leaf have to tell?
All the stories that hide in a tree . . .
Have you ever stopped to watch a rose grow?
Emotion comes from within; inspiration comes from without. The things we see, and how they make us feel: this is what writing is about. This is what it means to explore. This is what it means to live. This is what it means to love.