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On that cedar tree shone, however briefly, the steady, inward flames of eternity; across the mountain by the gas station raced the familiar flames of the falling sun. But on both occasions I thought, with rising exultation, this is it, this is it; praise the lord; praise the land. Experiencing the present purely is being emptied and hollow; you catch grace as a man fills his cup under a waterfall.
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
Annie Dillard
Even as a little girl, Irma Leopold had wanted above all things to see everyone happy with the cake of their choice.
Picnic at Hanging Rock
Joan Lindsay
Several blocks and a thousand years from the city’s ritzy nightclubs and theaters, a rind of moon sweated in the sky,
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