Sublime

As Annie Dillard wrote, "Beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will sense them. The least we can do is try to be there.”⁠

she had a sane and practiced eye for the half-concealed disasters that constitute a life. A

Through the slit that now parted the shutters, the old man stared despondently at the day. The scene, it was true, was of dimensions comparable to those of his own land—in fact, he had made the comparison all too frequently, as though Tuscany were remarkable only for this similarity—but then there was that sky. He had never experienced such a sky.

She had been born a babe out of the darkness out of nothing; she had sparked to first breath and first wonder. As is the truth of all the people who have walked and will walk upon the earth, she returned at last to all she had been before life.

In the gray and steely morning light, the evening before now looked like a childish fantasy.