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Kindle Notes & Highlights
As one large berg scraped against our boat, I felt the deep chill it casts off.
through the doorway I could see that the hall and kitchen was cast in a golden glow, and as Charlotte swept, the dust specks were suspended in the shafts of light. Father would have thought the scene very pretty. The fairy hour, the magical hour,
when light moves from gold to silver.
It is a grand, inscrutable wildness. Never are the people here allowed to forget that each of us is alive only by a small thread.
She always keeps a part of herself a mystery.
There, along the bird’s still, outstretched wing: an unexpected sliver of white light. It is only an effect of a beam of sun glancing off a branch behind the subject and can be explained rationally & scientifically. Yet this cannot account for the remarkable sensation
it evokes in me, a trembling, thrilling exhilaration, as if I have set something right, and long to do it again and again.
am left to wonder, will anyone else see it? That day in the forest when I looked upon the marble bear, alive with the setting sun, what did I witness? Was it only sunlight on stone, or Father’s spirit, or a reflection of my own? It seems to me now that such a moment requires a kind of trinity: you and I and the thing itself.
