Thoughts of Humbleness - Vinicunca, 1535

And there it was, a spectacle that rendered me speechless. A mountain, no, a titan, cloaked in a tapestry of colors the likes of which I had never seen nor imagined. Stripes of deepest crimson bled into veins of gold, turquoise melted into emerald, and lavender kissed the heavens. It was as if the Almighty had taken his palette and, with a divine hand, painted a masterpiece upon the very earth. I, Francisco Pizarro, conquistador of the New World, discoverer of untold riches, was humbled.

Atau [the Incan guide] sensing my awe, spoke in his strange tongue, gesturing towards the painted slopes. Though I understood not his words, his reverence was clear. And as I gazed upon this marvel, a strange disquiet settled upon me. Was it the thin air, or had I stumbled upon something truly sacred, something that should remain untouched by the ambitions of men like me?

• Chronicles of the Indies, 1535 (Two years after the fall of Cuzco)