Dawn is dawn, and never changes. I tell you, Hope is a creative force whose limitless dimensions lie within the boundary of each existing minute. Irresistible, Hope's magic is accomplished now. It comprehends no lapse of time. Hope, if it is true hope, fills the mind, affording malice and deceitful dread no room.
Hope lives in action.
The orchestra stole its way into his last half-dozen sentences and, as he finished, burst into the splendid opening bars of a hymn that was already ancient when the Hills were young. Conquering, it sounded, rising, overturning, splendid with the bloom of life and Hope that knows it is immortal. They swept the audience along with them into a surging spate of sound whose melody was like the rolling wonder of long rivers. The curtain came down amid such deafening applause that not even the radongs could blare above the thunder of it and the Lama had to shout like a mountaineer to make himself heard behind the scenes. The girls had disappeared almost before the echo of the Lama's warning cry had ceased, and within five minutes from the time the curtain came down Ommony found himself alone in the wings with Diana and Dawa Tsering, who wanted to stay there and brag of his performance.