Blame it or praise it, there is no denying the wild horse in us. To gallop intemperately; fall on the sand tired out; to feel the earth spin; to have — positively — a rush of friendship for stones and grasses, as if humanity were over, and as for men and women, let them go hang — there is no getting over the fact that this desire seizes us pretty often.
—Virginia Woolf, Jacob’s Room
Image: Arab manuscript, ca. 1766, Traité d’hippiatrie
