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"The lake burst upon us -- a noble sheet of blue water lifted six thousand three hundred
feet above the level of the sea, and walled in by a rim of snow - clad mountain peeks that
towered aloft full three thousand feet higher still! It was a vast oval, and one would have
to use up eighty or a hundred good miles in traveling around it. As it lay there with the
shadows of the mountains brilliantly photographed upon its still surface I thought it must
surely be the fairest picture the whole earth affords."
~~ Mark Twain ~~
"In the morning one watches the silent battle of dawn and darkness
on the waters of Tahoe with a placid interest but when the shadows skulk
away and one by one the hidden beauties of the shore unfold themselves
in the full splendor of noon; when the smooth surface is belted like a rain-
bow with broad bars of blue and green and white, half the distance from
circumferance to center, when the lazy summer afternoon, he lies in a
boat far out where the dead blue of the deep water begins and smokes
the pipe of peace and idly winks at the distant crags and patches of snow
from under is cap brim; when the boat drifts shoreward to the white
water, and he lols over the gunwale and gazes by the hour down through
the crystal depths and notes the of the pebbles and reviews the finny
armies gliding in procession a hundred feet below; when at night he sees
moon and stars, mountain ridges feathered with pines, jutting white
bald glimmering peaks, all magnificently pictured in a polished mirror
of the lake, in richest, softest detail the tranquil interest that was born
with the morning deepens and deepens, by sure degrees, till it culminates
at last in resistless fascination."
~~ Mark Twain ~~
