Morning Trip (325)

“In the hollows of quiet places we may meet, the quiet places where is neither moon nor sun, but only the light as of amber and pale gold that comes from the Hills of the Heart. There, listen at times: there you will call, and I hear: there will I whisper, and that whisper will come to you as dew is gathered into the grass, at the rising of the moon.”
–Fiona Macleod, The silence of Amor; Where the forest murmurs p. 6