Currently reading Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. It’s been a while since I’ve read something where the language has been so exquisite I find myself re-reading paragraphs and making notes of particular sentences and passages. Like this one:
I feel sometimes as if I were a child who opens its eyes on the world once and sees amazing things it will never know any names for and then has to close its eyes again. I know this is all mere apparition compared to what awaits us, but it is only lovelier for that. There is a human beauty in it.
p.57.
This is a book I’d heard a bit about but always resisted reading because, from its blurb, it seemed to be something I would be unlikely to enjoy. Misperceptions, hmph.