'As he strode at full stretch, he found himself humming. He was alone in the fields, looked around to check, began to sing. It became a noise, a crush of sounds from chants and hymns, songs and the music heard in secret – all just one sound which matched his mood, which floated as he himself seemed to float through autumn fields. It was a song of himself. Everything seemed to be in harmony. Everything seemed good. The world was a blessed place, all things committed and flowing through him and through everyone. He saw that everything moved to a single purpose, everything was earthed in the grass beneath his feet, and it was as if he simply ceased to be but was part of all around him, the sky within his reach, air, earth, stones, trees, he was part of their song and they of his.'
Quotation from: Crossing The Lines by Melvyn Bragg. Hodder & Stoughton 2003.
