Wednesday morning was dawning when I looked out of the window. The winking lights upon the bridges were already pale, the coming sun was like a marsh of fire on the horizon. The river, still dark and mysterious, was spanned by bridges that were turning coldly grey, with here and there at top a warm touch from the burning in the sky. As I looked along the clustered roofs, with Church towers and spires shooting into the unusually clear air, the sun rose up, and a veil seemed to be drawn from the river, and millions of sparkles burst out upon its waters. From me too, a veil seemed to be drawn, and I felt strong and well.
Saturday, 17 September 2011
Great Great Expectations
I found myself reading and re-reading this wonderful paragraph towards the end of Great Expectations. Pip has been burned saving Miss Havisham, and further injured in Orlick's preparations for his execution. At last he sleeps soundly.