I'm reading a collection of works by Henry David Thoreau. At the moment, A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers, is the text in which I am consumed. Last night while reading the closing pages, I encountered this passage:
He who hears the rippling of rivers in these degenerate days will not utterly despair. That night was the turning-point in the season. We had gone to bed in summer and we awoke in autumn; for summer passes into autumn in some unimaginable point of time, like the turning of a leaf.
Thoreau is literally speaking of falling asleep on the shores of the Merrimack River and awakening to the crisp call of the first day of fall, but read in the context of today's debates around our next steps in Iraq, I couldn't help but feel the relevance.