(Dag and Fawn are puzzling out Dag's growing healing powers.)
"'Imagine ... imagine your muscles all full of knots, pulled and sore and stiff, fighting you with every move you try to make. Now imagine your muscles when they're working smooth and warm, effortlessly, without thought. To will is to have is to be, all one. Like a perfect shot.'
"'Hmm?' He wasn't there yet, but he had hold of the tail of something, she could tell. Something elusive.
"'When I make a perfect shot with my bow. Which happens from time to time, though never often enough. I don't just mean get the arrow in the target, which I can do pretty consistently. In a perfect shot, everything's there just the same as any ordinary shot, yet not. For that fleeting moment, it's like -- my worries, my body, my bow, the target, even the arrow disappear. Only the flight is left.' His hand closed, opened. 'My left-hand groundwork is like the flight of the arrow without the arrow.'
"He stared down as if the words had fallen into his palm as unexpectedly as a jeweled tooth.
"He just said something important. Hang on to that, farmer girl, even if you don't quite get it yet."
-Lois McMaster Bujold, The Sharing Knife, Volume Three: Passage, (pp. 189-190.)