If good things lasted forever, would we appreciate how precious they are.
In this book of poems that make grown men blub like sissies, Patrick Stewart picks one, and as a preface to it writes, 'I had never believed the New England fall could possibly be as beautiful as people claimed. And then one morning after breakfast i left my friends' house in South Salem, New York State, having arrived in the dark the previous evening. I walked two hundred yards along the lane and broke down helplessly weeping with the never-before-seen beauty and grandeur of it all.'
*
No comments:
Post a Comment