From Pascal Quignard’s A Terrace in Rome (Terrasse a Rome). I only have the Wakefield Press translation from a few years ago – this passage is from pg.60.
“Leaving the shadow of the cliffs, we were dazzled by the glittering of the sun and the waves, the reflections of houses and boasts as far as the eyes could see. Abraham Van Berchem put his hand on the engraver’s shoulder. He said: “in getting old, it becomes more and more difficult to tear oneself away from the splendor of the landscape one passes through. The skin, worn out by wind and age, stretched by fatigue and many joys, the various kinds of body hair, tears, fluids, nails, and hair that have fallen to the ground like dead leaves and twigs, allow the soul to emerge and lose itself more and more beyond the limits of the skin. The final flight is, in truth, only a dispersion. The older I get, the more I feel at ease everywhere. I do not inhabit my body so much anymore. I feel my death coming someday soon. I feel my skin becoming much too thin and more porous. I say to myself: One day the landscape will pass through me.”