Riders in the Chariot
“From inside their flowered tent, they could now observe how the masses of the orchard were broken by a hatching in grey wood. Only precariously alive, the trees were the greener for their sickliness, moodily defiant of the strong light, with little, wizened oranges radiating a feverish gold. All was most extraordinarily exposed to mind and view from beneath the plum, and could have appeared to challenge hope, if it had not been for the evidence of continuity: a bird cupped in the grey goblet of... her nest, a litter of young rabbits moving by clockwork into grass, the eyelids of a lizard denying petrifaction by the sun. It was perfectly still, except that the branches of the plum tree hummed with life, increasing, and increasing, deafening, swallowing them up.
At that point Mary Hare turned to her companion, wondering whether he was the kind of person to whom apologies had to be made.
"This," she said, "is what I am really interested in." She wished her hands could have helped her out, but they would not.MoreLess
At that point Mary Hare turned to her companion, wondering whether he was the kind of person to whom apologies had to be made.
"This," she said, "is what I am really interested in." She wished her hands could have helped her out, but they would not.MoreLess
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