We both (...) have always been impressed by the anonymity of all the parts of a landscape, so dangerous for the soul, the impossibility of ever finding out where that path you see leads -and look, what a tempting thicket! It happened that on a distant slope or in a gap in the trees there would appear and, as it were, stop for an instant, like air retained in the lungs, a spot so enchanting -a lawn, a terrace - such perfect expression of tender well-meaning beauty -that it seemed that if one could stop the train and go thither, forever, to you, my love... But a thousand beech trunks were already madly leaping by, whirling in a sizzling sun pool, and again the chance of happiness was gone.
Vladimir Nabokov Cloud, Castle, Lake.
Penguin Pocket 2005
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