Hierophany

August has a certain fiery & sultry quality of her own, which fades before her last days of the month are over. September has mellowed whatever there was of roughness in her heat: the days are more perfect, but less vigorous. The summer in fact is on the wane; peacefully fading like some brilliant spot of light. The colours of the sunset are everywhere. When the sun sets you may see from this window little sparks of light scattered among the sandhills where no houses themselves are visible; the windows are thus emblazoned by the sun.

I love borders. August is the border between summer and autumn; it is the most beautiful month I know. Twilight is the border between day and night, and the shore is the border between sea and land. The border is longing; when both have fallen in love but still haven't said anything. The border is to be on the way. It is the way that is the most important thing.