“If the desert were a woman, I know well what she would be like: deep-breasted, broad in the hips, tawny, with tawny hair, great masses of it lying smooth along her perfect curves, full lipped like a sphinx, but now heavy-lidded like one, eyes sane and steady as the polished jewel of her skies, such a countenance as should make men serve without desiring her, such a largeness to her mind as should make their sins of no account, passionate, but not necessitous, patient — and you could not move her, no, not if you had all the earth to give, so much as one tawny hair’s-breadth beyond her own desires.”
By Mary Austin in: The Land of Little Rain
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