Explore "The Broken Swords" by George MacDonald on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The eyes of three, two sisters and a brother, gazed for the last time on a great pale-golden star, that followed the sun down the steep west. It went down to arise again; and the brother about to depart might return, but more than the usual doubt hung upon his future. For between the white dresses of the sisters, shone his scarlet coat and golden sword-knot, which he had put on for the first time, more to gratify their pride than his own vanity. The brightening moon, as if prophetic of a future memory, had already begun to dim the scarlet and the gold, and to give them a pale, ghostly hue. In her thoughtful light the whole group seemed more like a meeting in the land of shadows, than a parting in the substantial earth. But which should be called the land of realities? -- the region where appearance, and space, and time drive between, and stop the flowing currents of the soul's speech?
or that region where heart meets heart, and appearance has become the slave to utterance, and space and time are forgotten?