Friday, September 16, 2005


September 16, 2005

In the woods,
dewy autumn leaves
gold the trees,
like Midas treasuring
the momentary survival
of a bittersweet tension.

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George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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