My friends, you are outcasts, though you do not know it, and you have forfeited your place on earth. For there are two races - trees and man; and for each there is a different dispensation. Trees are silent, motionless, serene. They live and die, but do not know the taste of either life or death; to them a secret has been entrusted but not revealed. But the other tribe - the passionate, tragic, rootless tree - man? Alas! He is a creature whose highest privileges are a curse. In his mouth is ever the bitter-sweet taste of life and death, unknown to the trees. Without respite he is dragged by the two wild horses, memory and hope; and he is tormented by a secret that he can never tell. For every man worthy of the name is an initiate, but each one into different Mysteries.
Endymion Leer in Lud-in-the-Mist by Hope Mirrlees