Algernon Blackwood

Algernon Blackwood

Summary

Portrait of Algernon Blackwood Algernon Blackwood The Centaur — Chapter XIII (1911)

Quickly he turned away, lifted the hook of the cabin door, and passed into the passage, strangely faint. A great commotion followed him out: father and son both, it seemed, suddenly upon their feet. And at the same time the sound of "singing" rolled into the body of a great hushed chorus, as it were of galloping winds that filled big valleys far away with a gust of splendor, faintly roaring in some incredible distance where no cities were, nor habitations of men; with a freedom, too, that was majestic and sublime.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Algernon Blackwood Algernon Blackwood The Centaur — Chapter XIII (1911)

Already life had grown all glorious without. It was not steel engines but a speeding sense of beauty that drove the ship over the sea with feet of winged blue darkness. The stars fled with them across the sky, dropping golden leashes to draw him faster and faster forwards--yet within--to the dim days when this old world yet was young. He took his fire of youth and spread it, as it were, all over life till it covered the entire world, far, far away.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Algernon Blackwood Algernon Blackwood The Centaur — Chapter XIII (1911)

The narrow space of that little cabin was charged already to the brim, filled with some overpowering loveliness of wild and simple things, the beauty of stars and winds and flowers, the terror of seas and mountains; strange radiant forms of gods and heroes, nymphs, fauns and satyrs; the fierce sunshine of some Golden Age unspoiled, of a stainless region now long forgotten and denied--that world of splendor his heart had ever craved in vain, and beside which the life of Today faded to a wretched dream.
Source: Wikisource

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