Elen Sentier

“The Romans gave them Roman names, and let them be; but the Christians refuse to believe in them, and their priests berate the poorer folk for clinging to the old ways—and no doubt for wasting offerings which would do better at some hermit’s cell than at some ancient holy place in the forest. But still the simple folk creep out to leave their offerings, and when these vanish by morning, who is to say that a god has not taken them? This,”
― Mary Stewart, The Hollow Hills

“Something was moving; there was a kind of breathing brightness in the air, the wind of God brushing by, invisible in sunlight.”
― Mary Stewart, The Hollow Hills

“the smell of resin filled the air. A thrush was singing somewhere. Late harebells were thick among the grass, and small blue butterflies moved over the white flowers of the blackberry. There was a hive of wild bees under the roof of the chapel; their humming filled the air, the sound of summer’s end. Through”
― Mary Stewart, The Hollow Hills

“and behind the stone the faint drifting of the stars that is not movement, but the heavens breathing. Still”
― Mary Stewart, The Hollow Hills