"And often when I wake at night, and listen to the silence, or wander far from people, in the greyness of the evening, or stand and look at quiet water having shadows over it, some vague image seems to hover on the skirt of vision, ever changing place and outline, ever flitting as I follow. This so moves me and hurries me in the eagerness and longing, that straightway all my chance is lost; and memory, scared like a wild bird, flies."
Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore
Isn't it wonderful when you find that someone else has so beautifully described something so difficult to define, something so abstract. If only I had a fraction of this poetry in my soul.
ReplyDeleteHmmmm......worth slowing down to ponder.
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