that clear, turquoise color that you get with a white sand bottom

“The beach was white as salt, and cut off from the world by a ring of steep hills that faced the sea. We were on the edge of a large bay and the water was that clear, turquoise color that you get with a white sand bottom. I had never seen such a place. I wanted to take off all my clothes and never wear them again.”

—Hunter S. Thompson, The Rum Diary, 1998.

The most important meditation

“. . . some meditation—evening meditation—for about one hour. Then, at eight-thirty, sleep. Most important meditation. compulsory meditation for everyone—even some birds. The most important meditation, not for Nirvana, but for survival.”

—The Fourteenth Dalai Lama, describing his typical evening, quoted by Pico Iyer in The Open Road: The Global Journey of the Fourteenth Dalai Lama, 2008.

the nature of our sleep

“[T]he Dalai Lama often talks about sleep as one of the most important activities of the day, even calling on old texts to suggest how sleep can in fact be positively used, as almost anything can, for the clarification of the mind. It appeals to him, I think, because it is one activity that every member of humanity has in common, and the nature of our sleep plays a large part in how clearly we see the world.”

—Pico Iyer, The Open Road: The Global Journey of the Fourteenth Dalai Lama, 2008.

a very great and peaceful brightness

“I saw a very great and peaceful brightness which was similar to a flame. This brightness had a lot of eyes in it. . . . Inside this brightness, there was another brightness which . . . had the clearness of purple lightning inside itself. I also saw the earth with people on it. The people were carrying milk in their vessels, and they were making cheese from this milk. Some of the milk was thick, from which strong cheese was being made; some of the milk was thin, from which mild cheese was being curdled; and some of the milk was spoiling, from which bitter cheese was being produced.”

little Marie Tovesky’s eyes

“Carl had never forgotten little Marie Tovesky’s eyes, and he was glad to have an opportunity to study them. The brown iris, he found, was curiously slashed with yellow, the color of sunflower honey, or of old amber. In each eye one of these steaks must have been larger than the others, for the effect was that of two dancing points of light, two little yellow bubbles, such as rise in a glass of champagne. Sometimes they seemed like th sparks from a forge. She seemed so easily excited, to kindle with a fierce little flame if one but breathed upon her.”

—Willa Cather, O Pioneers!, 1913.

the light from some great fire

“The dawn in the east looked like the light from some great fire that was burning under the edge of the world.”

—Willa Cather, O Pioneers!, 1913.

light was the reality

“When he reached the orchard the sun was hanging low over the wheatfield. Long fingers of light reached through the apple branches as through a net; the orchard was riddled and shot with gold; light was the reality, the trees were merely interferences that reflected and refracted light.”

—Willa Cather, O Pioneers!, 1913.

Vernacular Baton Rouge: A River Runs Through Us

A pioneer should have imagination

“A pioneer should have imagination, should be able to enjoy the idea of things more than the things themselves.”

—Willa Cather, O Pioneers!, 1913.

A big white bird with long wings and pink feet

“’Ask him, Alexandra, if it is true that a sea gull came here once. I have heard so.’
    She had some difficulty in making the old man understood.
    He looked puzzled at first, then smote his hands together as he remembered. ‘Oh, yes, yes! A big white bird with long wings and pink feet. My! what a voice she had! She came in the afternoon and kept flying about the pond and screaming until dark. She was in trouble of some sort, but I could not understand her. She was going over to the other ocean, maybe, and did not know how far it was. She was afraid of never getting there. She was more mournful that our birds here; she cried in the night. She saw the light from my window and darted up to it. Maybe she though my house was a boat, she was such a wild thing. Next morning when the sun rose, I went out to take her food, but she flew up into the sky and went on  her way.’ Ivar ran his fingers through his thick hair. ‘I have many strange birds stop with me here. They come from very far away and are great company. . . .’”

—Willa Cather, O Pioneers!, 1913.