“I saw the cedar where the mourning doves roost charged and transfigured, each cell buzzing with flame. I stood on the grass with the lights in it, grass that was wholly fire, utterly focused... The flood of fire abated, but... I was still ringing. I had been my whole life a bell and never knew it until at that moment I was lifted and struck.... I live for it, for the moment the mountains open and a new light roars through the crack."
― Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek