A Quote by Miriam Toews
But love, like a mushroom high compared with the buzz from cheap weed, outlasts grief.
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Grief causes you to leave yourself. You step outside your narrow little pelt. And you can’t feel grief unless you’ve had love before it - grief is the final outcome of love, because it’s love lost. […] It’s the cycle of love completed: to love, to lose, to feel grief, to leave, and then to love again. Grief is the awareness that you will have to be alone, and there is nothing beyond that because being alone is the ultimate final destiny of each individual living creature. That’s what death is, the great loneliness.
Grief moves us like love. Grief is love, I suppose. Love as a backwards glance.
[On creating] And you get that little endorphin buzz, it's great. Why do you think Einstein looked like that? I don't think he was going "You know this is some dynamite weed! It's all relative you know."
As a singer, I've always said, "Yes, I smoke weed," when I'm asked. Of course I say yes, because why wouldn't I smoke weed? There are many reasons not to, though not that many compared to the reasons to do it. I've always been open about it ... but people go, "Hippie! No, not listening to you," and I think that's a bloody shame.
There is a banking adage that if it's growing like a weed, it's a good chance that it's a weed.
If love is sex
we were in love.
& if love outlasts
the body, then
I am you,
it is fair to say.
Growing the mycelium of the Chaga mushroom under laboratory conditions provides an ecologically friendly alternative supply of this unique medicinal mushroom.
When you have had the high of being on stage, especially in a band like ourselves, I can't help but search for that buzz.
to love life, to love it even when you have no stomach for it and everything you've held dear crumbles like burnt paper in your hands, your throat filled with the silt of it. When grief sits with you, its tropical heat thickening the air, heavy as water more fit for gills than lungs; when grief weights you like your own flesh only more of it, an obesity of grief, you think, How can a body withstand this? Then you hold life like a face between your palms, a plain face, no charming smile, no violet eyes, and you say, yes, I will take you I will love you, again.
I'm a mushroom freak. I make a mushroom soup where I use maybe six or seven varieties, not just portobello and shiitake, but dried porcini and morels.
Armed and dangerous, ain't too many can bang with us
Straight up weed no angel dust, label us Notorious
Thug ass niggaz that love to bust, it's strange to us
Y'all niggaz be scramblin, gamblin
Up in restaraunts with mandolins, and violins
We just sittin here tryin to win, tryin not to sin
High off weed and lots of gin
So much smoke need oxygen, steadily countin them Benjamins
Grief is the natural by-product of love. One cannot selflessly love another person and not grieve at his suffering or eventual death. The only way to avoid the grief would be to not experience the love; and it is love that gives life its richness and meaning.
On these matters of specific fact, like is the mushroom an extraterrestrial and that sort of thing, I haven't the faintest idea. The mushroom itself is such a mercurial, elusive, Zen sort of personality that I never believe a word it says. I simply entertain its notions and try and sort through them, and I found that to be the most enriching approach to it.
Critics are like horse-flies which hinder the horses in their plowing of the soil. The horse works, all its muscles drawn tight like the strings on a double-bass, and a fly settles on his flanks and tickles and buzzes. And what does the fly buzz about? It scarcely knows itself; simply because it is restless and wants to proclaim: 'Look, I too am living on the earth. See, I can buzz, too, buzz about anything.'
We are all one, I mean communication, just the realisation of human love reciprocated, it's such a gas, it's a good vibration which makes you feel good. These vibrations that you get through Yoga, Cosmic chants and things like that. I mean it's such a buzz, it buzzes you out of everywhere. It's nothing to do with pills or anything like that. It's just in your own head, the realisation, it's such a buzz, it buzzes you right into the astral plane.
I love that about college football. I love all the funky matchups. I love the Funky Cold Medina Poulan Weed Eater Bowl. I love all of that. I like the crazy games. There's obviously a market for it because them TVs love to put it on there.
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