Sunday, June 19, 2011

The Rhythm of Life

He had at last begun to sense the rhythm of life in the ancient town, and how it was that his own pulse should eventually conform to it. And this in itself was a grave satisfaction to him. He had always been on the lookout for reverences, and here was a holiness more intrinsic than any he could ever have imagined--a slow, druidic procession of the seasons in the narrow streets.

--House Made of Dawn by N. Scott Momaday


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