70
" He lay back against the crunching branches ad half shut his eyes. The rain was a soft sweet veil of silver around him. As he glanced upwards the heavens opened as if for a laser beam, and he saw the moon, the full moon, the meaningless and irrelevant full moon in all its blessed glory, floating in a wreath of clouds, against the distant stars.
A deep love of all he saw settled over him-love for the splendor of the moon and the sparkling fragments of light that drifted beyond it-for the enfolding forest that sheltered him so completely, for the rain that carried the dazzling light of the skies to the shimmering bower in which he lay.
A flame burned in him, a faith that a comprehending Power existed, animating all this that it had created and sustaining it with a love beyond anything that he, Reuben, could imagine. "
― Anne Rice , The Wolf Gift (The Wolf Gift Chronicles, #1)
74
" His many questions seemed insignificant as a vision of knowledge took form in his mind, vast, well beyond the arithmetical strictures of language, a great organic yet limitless vision that dissolved words. It was something infinitely more like music, expanding and rolling like the symphonic triumphs of Brahms. His heart was beating quietly to the mounting rhythm of his expectations, and a light was slowly breaking in on him, heated, incandescent, like the Shechinah, of the inevitable light of every dawn. "
― Anne Rice , The Wolf Gift (The Wolf Gift Chronicles, #1)