Elen Sentier

“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

“There, below the cliffs, is a bay of sand where the rocks stand up like the fangs of wolves, and no boat or swimmer can live when the tide is breaking round them. To right and left of the bay the sea has driven arches through the cliff. The rocks are purple and rose-coloured and pale as turquoise in the sun, and on a summer’s evening when the tide is low and the sun is sinking, men see on the horizon land that comes and goes with the light. It is the Summer Isle, which (they say) floats and sinks at the will of heaven, the Island of Glass through which the clouds and stars can be seen, but which for those who dwell there is full of trees and grass and springs of sweet water . . .’ The”
― 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

“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