...all the parts of a landscape, so dangerous for the soul, the impossibility of ever finding out where that path you see leads...on a distant slope or in a gap in the trees there would appear, and, as it were, stop for an instant, like air retained in the lungs, a spot so enchanting that it seemed that if one could stop the train and go thither, forever, to you my love...But a thousand beech trunks were already madly leaping by, whirling in a sizzling sun pool, and again the chance for happiness was gone.