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The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from The Mountains by Stewart Edward White: precariously to scramble. And the silence. It was so
still that the very ringing in our ears came to a
prominence absurd and almost terrifying. The wind
swept by noiseless, because it had nothing movable to
startle into noise. The solid eternal granite lay heavy
in its statics across the possibility of even a whisper.
The blue vault of heaven seemed emptied of sound.
But the wind did stream by unceasingly, weird
in the unaccustomedness of its silence. And the sky
was blue as a turquoise, and the sun burned fiercely,
and the air was cold as the water of a mountain spring.
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