take long. Soon fine galloping language, gutless swooning full sapless — William Faulkner, Light August

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It does not take long. Soon the fine galloping language, the gutless swooning full of sapless trees and dehydrated lusts begins to swim smooth and swift and peaceful. It is better than praying without having to bother to think aloud. It is like listening in a cathedral to a eunuch chanting in a language which he does not even need to not understand.

William Faulkner, Light in August

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