everyone must take time to sit and watch the leaves turn. (elizabeth lawrence)
a soft light, a scent in the air, the quiet murmur of the city. (guillaume laurant, amélie)
all that a city will ever allow you is an angle on it — an oblique, indirect sample of what it contains, or what passes through it; a point of view. (peter conrad)
time is like the wind, it lifts the light and leaves the heavy. (doménico cieri estrada)
there may be a great fire in our soul, yet no one ever comes to warm himself at it, and the passers-by see only a wisp of smoke. (vincent van gogh)
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