I knew one who made his pilgrimage to springs

The Springs by Wendell Berry In a country without saints or shrines I knew one who made his pilgrimage to springs, where in his life’s dry years his mind held on. Everlasting, people called them, and gave them names. The water broke into sounds and shinings at the vein mouth, bearing the taste of theContinue reading “I knew one who made his pilgrimage to springs”

to stand silent and awed within the Precious Habitation

The Golden Goblet by Eloise Jarvis McGraw (216-218): They were the inlaid eyes of a life-sized wooden statue, and he saw now that they had been partially smashed, as if from the blow of a dagger hilt. Gebu and Wenamon had wanted no gaze upon them as they went about their evil work, especially theContinue reading “to stand silent and awed within the Precious Habitation”