Tuesday, 15 April 2014


"Spring drew on...and a greeness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps."

(Charlotte Bronte. Jane Eyre)

"But now it was spring again, and spring was almost unbearable for sensitive hearts. It drove creation to its utmost limits, it wafted its spice-laden breath even into the nostrils of the innocent."

(Knut Hamson. Dreamers)

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