But by the time that I had nothing left, I myself was the lightest thing of all for fate to get rid of.
Isak DinesenI have before seen other countries, in the same manner, give themselves to you when you are about to leave them.
Isak DinesenThe air was cold to the lungs, the long grass dripping wet, and the herbs on it gave out their spiced astringent scent. In a little while on all sides the Cicada would begin to sing. The grass was me , and the air, the distant invisible mountains were me, the tired oxen were me. I breathed with the slight night-wind in the thorn trees.
Isak Dinesen