Under the Eye of the Clock

Christopher Nolan, author of Under the Eye of the Clock, died today at the age of 43. Nolan was crippled by Cerebral Palsy since his birth. Crippled in body, but not in mind. Nolan was brilliant.

He wrote so many words worth remembering, but this passage stands out to me today:

Communion served to join the silent boy with silent God, and into his masked ear Joseph poured out his mental whispering, begging blessings to be showered on his faithful friends. He looked out on scattered continents whispering his awe and pleaded for his brothers and sisters as though skin colour was but a variation of family crests. Wisdom seemed to wise him to see his awful boyhood as though awfulness was beautiful. His heard secrets cradled him and fruit served yet again to form on hiltopped briar.

I can only dream of penning words as profound as dwelt in Nolan's mind.