Two pigeons on the bridge above Tunbridge Wells station.
Yesterday I referred to a book of classical Persian folk tales told by Shusha Guppy. I bought it on impulse from Hall's bookshop two days ago and it is proving, like much else of my reading at this time, greatly rewarding. In particular I love this traditional way of ending Persian stories:
Our story is told and you must rest
Though the crow has not yet reached its nest.
There could, surely, be no lovelier or more peaceful thought on which to drift off to sleep.
As a voluble person I increasingly love silence. I am reminded of the Victorian cleric and wit, Sydney Smith, who remarked of Macaulay's conversation that it was enlivened by brilliant flashes of silence.