Jessiealan
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Member of the Month, October 2013
Posts: 8,726
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Post by Jessiealan on Apr 28, 2017 8:44:03 GMT -5
“It was such a spring day as breathes into a man an ineffable yearning, a painful sweetness, a longing that makes him stand motionless, looking at the leaves or grass, and fling out his arms to embrace he knows not what.” ― John Galsworthy, The Forsyte Saga
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Jessiealan
xr
Member of the Month, October 2013
Posts: 8,726
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Post by Jessiealan on May 2, 2017 16:27:15 GMT -5
“After that hard winter, one could not get enough of the nimble air. Every morning I wakened with a fresh consciousness that winter was over. There were none of the signs of spring for which I used to watch in Virginia, no budding woods or blooming gardens. There was only—spring itself; the throb of it, the light restlessness, the vital essence of it everywhere: in the sky, in the swift clouds, in the pale sunshine, and in the warm, high wind—rising suddenly, sinking suddenly, impulsive and playful like a big puppy that pawed you and then lay down to be petted. If I had been tossed down blindfold on that red prairie, I should have known that it was spring.” ― Willa Cather, My Ántonia
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Jessiealan
xr
Member of the Month, October 2013
Posts: 8,726
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Post by Jessiealan on May 11, 2017 16:50:15 GMT -5
To find the universal elements enough; to find the air and the water exhilarating; to be refreshed by a morning walk or an evening saunter... to be thrilled by the stars at night; to be elated over a bird's nest or a wildflower in spring - these are some of the rewards of the simple life. John Burroughs
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Jessiealan
xr
Member of the Month, October 2013
Posts: 8,726
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Post by Jessiealan on May 19, 2017 0:38:28 GMT -5
Every spring is the only spring, a perpetual astonishment. Ellis Peters
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