Lighted Windows e-bog

Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. One summer I lived a while in a little hotel that stood in a village and faced the mountain. Out of my window I could see a great glacier, and from it came a roaring waterfall, the white blood of the ice monster, running away forever. The huge mountain-mass loomed up sombre, imposing. All day long it stood sturdy in the sun, and showed its brown shoulders, its rock teeth, its green pine whiskers, as if a sleeping giant, a dead demiurge. In the morning the dawn fairies bathed it in rosy mist; at noon the sun blazed over it and it glistened like the shields of warriors; at twilight it towered, dark, thought ful, melancholy, the dwelling place of mystery and of the hosts of fear.