Isn’t a dead language rather a sad thing, Janet? Once it lived and burned and glowed. People said loving things in it…bitter things…wise and silly things in it. I wonder who was the very last person to utter a sentence in living Latin.
I like to fancy souls as being made out of light. And some are all shot through with rosy stains and quivers…and some have a soft glitter like moonlight on the sea…and some are pale and transparent like mist at dawn.
The woods are never solitary—they are full of whispering, beckoning, friendly life. But the sea is a mighty soul, forever moaning of some great, unshareable sorrow, which shuts it up into itself for all eternity.
In anticipation of season 2, I made a powerpoint on the Guild.
Authors in order of appearance: Francis Scott Fitzgerald, L. M. Montgomery, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Margaret Mitchell, H. P. Lovecraft, John Steinbeck, Edgar Allen Poe, Mark Twain, Herman Melville, and Louisa May Alcott.