“God have pity on the smell of gasolinewhich finds its way like an armthrough a car window,more human than kerosene,more unctuous, more manly.”
— S. Jane SloatThe weight of silence can crush, but it also shapes us into what we must become.
— S. Jane SloatWe carry the stories of our ancestors in the marrow of our bones.
— S. Jane SloatEach word we speak is a ripple in the still pond of time.
— S. Jane SloatIn the small cracks of life, the light of truth seeps through.
— S. Jane SloatWe dream in fragments, but live in whole stories.
— S. Jane SloatThe garden grows not just with sun and rain, but with the whispers of those who tend it.
— S. Jane SloatThe heart is a restless traveler, seeking solace in the familiar and the unknown.
— S. Jane SloatWhat the river cannot carry, it hides in its depths.
— S. Jane SloatTime folds like paper, leaving sharp creases of memory.
— S. Jane SloatThe sky speaks in shades, a language beyond words.
— S. Jane SloatLove is a mirror that shows us both our beauty and our flaws.
— S. Jane SloatA poem is a door; each line an invitation to step through.
— S. Jane SloatEven the shadows hold stories, waiting for the right light to reveal them.
— S. Jane SloatTo touch the earth is to remember what it means to be rooted.
— S. Jane SloatGrief is a tide; it recedes and returns, shaping the shore of who we are.
— S. Jane SloatThe smallest acts of kindness create ripples that reach unseen shores.
— S. Jane SloatWe are all constellations, pieces of light bound by invisible threads.
— S. Jane SloatThe wind carries secrets that only the trees dare to whisper back.
— S. Jane SloatThe map of the heart is never complete; new roads appear with each choice.
— S. Jane SloatA child's laughter is the melody that reminds us of wonder.
— S. Jane Sloat