Monday, May 28, 2012

fascinating, bewitching, entrancing

Monday, May 28, 2012

If there is any life that is happier than the life we led on our timber ranch for the next two or three weeks, it must be a sort of life which I have not read of in books or experienced in person. We did not see a human being but ourselves during the time, or hear any sounds but those that were made by the wind and the waves, the sighing of the pines, and now and then the far-off thunder of an avalanche. The forest about us was dense and cool, the sky above us was cloudless and brilliant with sunshine, the broad lake before us was glassy and clear, or rippled and breezy, or black and storm tossed, according to Nature's mood; and its circling border of mountain domes, clothed with forests, scarred with landslides, cloven by canons and valleys, and helmeted with glittering snow, fitly framed and finished the noble picture. The view was always fascinating, bewitching, entrancing. 

~ Mark Twain, Roughing It, 1872

1 comments:

Loree said...

What lovely prose. Reading something like that makes me realise that I need to read more, read slower, savour the words ... oh, if only I had the time.

 
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