I could never in a hundred summers get tired of this...
Carmen again.
Summertime. It was a song. It was a season. I wondered if that season would ever live inside me.....
Love the trees until their leaves fall off, then encourage them to try again next year.
My boy Peppino: "I know the year is dying, Soon the summer will be dead. I can trace it in the flying Of the black crows overhead; I can hear it in the rustle Of the dead leaves as I pass, And the south wind's plaintive sighing Through the dry and withered grass. Ah, 'tis then I love to wander, Wander idly and alone, Listening to the solemn music Of sweet nature's undertone; Wrapt in thoughts I cannot utter, Dreams my tongue cannot express, Dreams that match the autumn's sadness In their longing tenderness." - Mortimer Crane Brown, Autumn Dreams
Comments