|
The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from The Land of Footprints by Stewart Edward White: of low cliffs in long straight lines. Across the distances proper
to a dozen horizons the tumbled chaos heaved and fell. The eye
sought rest at the bounds usual to its accustomed world-and went
on. There was no roundness to the earth, no grateful curve to
drop this great fierce country beyond a healing horizon out of
sight. The immensity of primal space was in it, and the
simplicity of primal things-rough, unfinished, full of mystery.
There was no colour. The scene was done in slate gray, darkening
to the opaque where a tiny distant rain squall started;
lightening in the nearer shadows to reveal half-guessed peaks;
brightening unexpectedly into broad short bands of misty gray
|