Monday, October 26, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
In the rotation of crops there was a recognised season for wild oats; but they were not to be sown more than once.
And through the dewy meadow's breast, fringed with shade, but touched on one side with the sun-smile, ran the crystal water, curving in its brightness like diverted hope.
"Ah! the strength of women comes from the fact that psychology cannot explain us. Men can be analysed, women . . . merely adored."
A fine horse or a beautiful woman, I cannot look at them unmoved, even now when seventy winters have chilled my blood.