Everything, always, collectively, had been moving toward that purified shape latent in the sky.

Thomas Pynchon, Gravity's Rainbow:

. . . and now, in the Zone, later in the day he became a crossroad, after a heavy rain he doesn’t recall, Slothrop sees a very thick rainbow here, a stout rainbow cock driven down out of pubic clouds into Earth, green wet valleyed Earth, and his chest fills and he stands crying, not a thing in his head, just feeling natural. . . .

Yvette Mattern, Global Rainbow, Berlin, February 2010