Word Porn, Courtesy of E.M. Forster

It never bored them to hear words, words; they breathed them with the cool night air, never stopping to analyse; the name of the poet, Hafiz, Hali, Iqbal, was sufficient guarantee. India–a hundred Indias–whispered outside beneath the indifferent moon, but for the time India seemed one and their own, and they regarded their departed greatness by hearing its departure lamented, they felt young again because reminded that youth must fly.

A Passage to India

I’m reading E.M. Forster’s A Passage to India for school.

This little passage is a few pages in and I was absolutely struck by its language. It’s so beautiful.

For those who are unaware, A Passage to India takes place during Britain’s rule over India in the 1920s–just to give a bit of context for the quote.

If this is what the first few pages of this book have brought forth, I cannot wait to see what surprises the rest will reveal in time.

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