Quotes from Antonia White

She read on and on, enraptured. She could not understand half, but it excited her oddly, like words in a foreign language sung to a beautiful air. She followed the poem vaguely as she followed the Latin in her missal, guessing, inventing meanings for herself, intoxicated by the mere rush of words. And yet she felt she did understand, not with her eyes or her brain, but with some faculty she did not even know she possessed.

Already she fancied she could see the shadow of tomorrow faintly clouding his face...

And it was as if all these details were connected, that they were like the separate letters of a word in an unknown language and that, if only she could understand the word, she would understand everything.