Whilst travelling around South America this year, I re-read one of my childhood favourites, The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. One of the chapters starts with what I think may be one of the most beautiful paragraphs ever written. It fueled my already burning passion to experience moments like these often and in as many places on this beautiful planet as I can. I wanted to share it with you all and I hope it touches you like it did me!
One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then that one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever and ever. One knows it sometimes when one gets up at the tender solemn dawn-time and goes out and stands alone and throws one’s head far back and looks up and up and watches the pale sky slowly changing and flushing and marvelous unknown things happening until the East almost makes one cry and and one’s heart stands still at the strange unchanging majesty of the rising of the sun– which has been happening every morning for thousands and thousands and thousands of years. One knows it then for a moment or so. And one knows it sometime when one stands by oneself in a wood at sunset and the mysterious deep gold stillness slanting through and under the branches seems to be saying slowly again and again something one cannot quite hear, however much one tries. Then sometimes the immense quiet of the dark blue at night with millions or stars waiting and watching makes one sure; and sometimes a sound of far-off music makes it true, and sometimes a look in some one’s eyes.
Frances Hodgson Burnett
The Secret Garden
Photo courtesy of Victor Herranz.