True solitude is a din of birdsong, seething leaves, whirling colors, or a clamor of tracks in the snow. – Edward Hoagland
There arent many irritations to match the condescension which a woman metes out to a man who she believes has loved her vainly for the past umpteen years. – Edward Hoagland
In order to really enjoy a dog, one doesnt merely try to train him to be semi-human. The point of it is to open oneself to the possibility of becoming partly a dog. – Edward Hoagland
Silence is exhilarating at first – as noise is – but there is a sweetness to silence outlasting exhilaration, akin to the sweetness of listening and the velvet of sleep. – Edward Hoagland