Henry Beston

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Henry Beston
Henry Beston

Lived a year in a two-room cabin on a Cape Cod dune. Watched the surf, the migrating birds, the weight of the night sky. Wrote it down.

Henry Beston
·1928·Eastham, Massachusetts, USA

Our fantastic civilization has fallen out of touch with many aspects of nature, and with none more completely than with night. With lights and ever more lights, we drive the holiness and beauty of night back to the forests and the sea; the little villages, the crossroads even, will have none of it. Do they fear that vast serenity, the mystery of infinite space, the austerity of stars? Are modern folk, perhaps, afraid of night?