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It was like being quite alone on the roof of the world. I felt that if I were to go to the edge and look over ... I would see below all that I had ever known; all the crowded cities and seas covered with ships, and the clamor of harbors and traffic of rivers, and farmlands being worked, and herds of cattle driven in dust across interminable plains. All the clamor and clatter, confusion of voices, tumults, and conflicts, must still be going on, down there—over the edge, and below—but here there was only the sky, and a stillness made audible by the brittle grass. Emptiness was so perfect all around me that I felt a part of it, empty myself.
--
Letter to the Clarence Day (June 10, 1926)
--
Describing her stop on a remote Russian plateau while with the Red Cross after WWI.

 

Rose Wilder Lane

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Come to the edge.
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Come to the edge.
It's too high!
COME TO THE EDGE!
And they came
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