They were stricken, surely, nearly blind in the keep of some primordial darkness. And yet it was their time, and they came out into the light, one after another, until the way out was lost to them. Loss was in the order of things, then, from the beginning. Their emergence was a small thing in itself, and unfinished. But it gave them to know that they were and who they were. They could at last say to themselves. "We are..."
The Names: A Memoir, by N. Scott Momaday
I was stricken, surely, nearly blind in the keep of some primordial darkness. And yet it was my time, and I came out into the light until the way out was lost to me. Loss was in the order of things, then, from the beginning. My emergence was a small thing in itself, and unfinished. But it gave me to know that I was and who I was. I could at last say to myself: "I am..."
