Explore "Kim" by Rudyard Kipling on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
My brother kneels (so saith Kabir) / To stone and brass in heathen wise, / But in my brother's voice I hear / My own unanswered agonies. / His God is as his Fates assign -- / His prayer is all the world's -- and mine. / The Prayer
At moonrise the cautious coolies got under way. The lama, refreshed by his sleep and the spirit, needed no more than Kim's shoulder to bear him along -- a silent, swift-striding man. They held the shale-sprinkled grass for an hour, swept round the shoulder of an immortal cliff, and climbed into a new country entirely blocked off from all sight of Chini valley. A huge pasture-ground ran up fan-shaped to the living snow. At its base was perhaps half an acre of flat land, on which stood a few soil and timber huts. Behind them -- for, hill-fashion, they were perched on the edge of all things -- the ground fell sheer two thousand feet to Shamlegh-midden, where never yet man has set foot.