Best 17 quotes of Ari Berk on MyQuotes

Honest error may play prologue to wonders.

I am a book also, words and thoughts and stories held together by flesh. We open and close ourselves to the world. We are read by others or put away by them. We wait to be seen, sitting quietly on shelves for someone to bother having a look inside us.

In life, a person will come and go from many homes. We may leave a house, a town, a room, but that does not mean those places leave us. Once entered, we never entirely depart the homes we make for ourselves in the world. They follow us, like shadows, until we come upon them again, waiting for us in the mist.

...that heaven might be no further afield than the hearts of those people who remember us with love.

The hours must be endured and those who cannot do so in life will most surely do so in death. You say you cannot face them? Life's joys and pains both? You shall find them waiting for you, a world of ignored moments there to be explored. Then shall you know how long an hour can be, shall feel the awful depth and restlessness of even a single day, and all the days you fled from life while you were alive.

All storytelling is a form of travel. All of the things you know you should do when traveling this world apple in Elfland as well. The Charms will open the doors to strange and wondrous lands, so some travel tips and runic etiquette may be in order: Be polite. Don't take anything without asking. Laugh at their jokes. Remember, humor is sacred: so is hospitality. Beware of the dark woods at night. Do not trust the wolf in winter. Take notes. Sing for your supper. Pack extra sandwiches. Bring fine gifts. Always tell a story when asked. Listen as if your life depended on it. Start early. Walk the land. Keep your eyes open. Travel wisely and well. Come back safe and sound.

All storytelling is a form of travel. All of the things you know you should do when traveling this world apply in Elfland as well. The Charms will open the doors to strange and wondrous lands, so some travel tips and runic etiquette may be in order: Be polite. Don't take anything without asking. Laugh at their jokes. Remember, humor is sacred: so is hospitality. Beware of the dark woods at night. Do not trust the wolf in winter. Take notes. Sing for your supper. Pack extra sandwiches. Bring fine gifts. Always tell a story when asked. Listen as if your life depended on it. Start early. Walk the land. Keep your eyes open. Travel wisely and well. Come back safe and sound.

Can these signs and symbols still speak? Images, memories, stories, and objects all carry the past into the present. As we think about these messages from the past, we might wonder, too, about what kind of signs we are leaving for the future. How will our children's children know of us? What markers of our passing do we leave upon the land? Some of these signs, because of the material they're made from, or the care taken in making them, may last longer than others and have different stories to tell.

Everything has an origin in it, and animals are no exception.

He passed his hands over some of the fine embossed bindings as he thought, I am a book also, words and thoughts and stories held together by flesh. We open and close ourselves to the world. We are read by others or put away by them. We wait to be seen, sitting quietly on shelves for someone to bother having a look inside us.

Imagine standing in a room in a large museum. As you look around the dimly lit gallery, you begin to recognize shapes: a basket, an arrow, a beautifully decorated carving, a shield. Some of the objects are unrecognizable to you. What if these objects could speak? What would they tell you about themselves? How have they been used? Where did they come from? How did they get to this museum? Whom do they belong to?

Of course, not all journeys are undertaken for sacred purposes. Some people may undertake journeys for the simplest reason of all: curiousity. They wish to see what there is to see just beyond the next hill, or over the far river, or at the end of the long trail leading towards dawn....

One of the reasons people and animals share such a close relationship is that people have always learned important lessons from animals: what to eat, and what not to eat; when it is safe, or when there is danger about. Have you ever walked in a park or forest where there were no birds singing and no small animals to be seen? It's unsettling, isn't it? Where have the birds gone? And why did they leave? Often, animals can warn us of trouble before we are able to detect it for ourselves. Many people have been saved from fires by their pets, who, sensing the danger early, woke their owners and allowed them to get to safety. By carefully watching animals and their behavior, people can learn, and have learned, a great deal about their environment.

Or perhaps it has another form that only you can see and imagine. What story does the simple stone tell? Where did it come from? Isn't it like stones you yourself have picked up on your travels? Why do we keep such things? Reminders of all that has gone before, perhaps they keep us.

People are not alone in making art. Even the smallest animals can create things of beauty. Even the smallest animals have power and can help set things right in the world. Beautiful things are being made all the time and can still work great wonders. A tiny web of silk, a small jar of earth, can hold a glowing ember of the sun to help light the world.

When a person sets out upon a journey - whether to hunt for food or knowledge, to make war, or even to visit the Otherworld - they are never the same when they return. Traveling changes us. Journeys shapes our memories and expand our experiences. Those things we bring back from the hunt - either food or knowledge - sustain us and keep us curious about the world. Think of your own travels and adventures out upon the land or in foreign countries: What wonderful stories do you have to tell? What experiences have you "hunted" or sought on your travels? What have you learned from the land? The stories told about journeys are as important (perhaps more important) than the destination. The journey lasts for only a fixed time, but the stories told of it, the wisdom brought back, can keep traveling forever, keep living, even after the tellers have traveled on.

When we change the shape of the Land, we alter the contents and contexts of our collective, familial, and personal memories. Yet, stories can preserve both mythic and familiar elements of geography even when the physical features are forgotten, buried, or obliterated. And more than this: the stories can bring these elements back. If the Land can be preserved long enough for its stories to be told, and retold, perhaps we all — as custodians of both place and memory — stand a chance at real preservation.