I read often in this book. It is to me as the sea is, or the wind: for like that unseen and homeless creature, which in the beginning God breathed between the lips of Heat and Cold, it is full of unbidden meanings and has sighs and laughters: and, like the sea, it has limits and shallows, but holds the stars, and has depths where light is dim and only the still, breathless soul listens; and has a sudden voice that is old as day and night, and is fed with dews and rain, and is salt and bitter.
Fiona MacLeod
Fiona MacLeod
