That Aspects Are Within Us;

Beauty Lay Not In The Thing, But In What The Thing Symbolized.

My Wicked Heart Will Ramble On In Spite Of Myself. (arabella)

It Was That Period In The Vernal Quarter When We May Suppose The Dryads To Be Waking For The Season. The Vegetable World Begins To Move And Swell And The Saps To Rise, Till In The Completest Silence Of Lone Gardens And Trackless Plantations, Where Everything Seems Helpless And Still After The Bond And Slavery Of Frost, There Are Bustlings, Strainings, United Thrusts, And Pulls-all-together, In Comparison With Which The Powerful Tugs Of Cranes And Pulleys In A Noisy City Are But Pigmy Efforts.

War Makes Rattling Good History.

Bless Thy Simplicity, Tess