His eyes kept to the bright thread of water before them. The path it had found to make its way to lower ground was as coiled as a hog’s bowel. He had learned enough of books to think that gravity in its ideal form was supposed to work in straight lines of force. But looking on the creek as it made its snaky way down the hill, he saw such notions to be just airy thoughts. The creek’s turnings marked how all that moves must shape itself to the maze of actual landscape, no matter what its preferences might be.
—Cold Mountain, by Charles Frazier
That’s Daoism with a Southern drawl!