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Rudyard Kipling

1865–1936

Kipling wrote most of these stories in Vermont, in a house he built above the Connecticut River, a hemisphere away from the Seeonee hills.

Feels like nature, wonder and awe.

What a palace looks like a hundred years after the queens have gone.

He set his teeth and said nothing, but went with the shouting monkeys to a terrace above the red sandstone reservoirs that were half full of rainwater. There was a ruined summerhouse of white marble in the center of the terrace, built for queens dead a hundred years ago. The domed roof had half fallen in and blocked up the underground passage from the palace by which the queens used to enter; but the walls were made of screens of marble tracery—beautiful, milk-white fretwork, set with agates and cornelians and jasper and lapis lazuli, and as the moon came up behind the hill it shone through the openwork, casting shadows on the ground like black-velvet embroidery.
— The Jungle Book, Rudyard Kipling (1894)

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