Often I got down on my knees—to kiss a flower. ‘You’re so perfect!’ I would say. ‘So self-sufficient. All you need are sun and rain. And you get what you need without asking. You never cry for the moon, do you, little violet? You never wish to be different than you are.’ That’s how I talked to the flowers. Yes, I knew how to commune with Nature. And it was all perfectly natural. Real. Terribly real.
Henry Miller, Nexus