"Walked for half an hour in the garden. A fine rain
was falling, and the landscape was that of autumn. The sky was hung with
various shades of gray, and mists hovered about the distant mountains - a
melancholy nature. The leaves were falling on all sides like the last illusions
of youth under the tears of irremediable grief. A brood of chattering birds
were chasing each other through the shrubberies, and playing games among the
branches, like a knot of hiding schoolboys. Every landscape is, as it were, a
state of the soul, and whoever penetrates into both is astonished to find how
much likeness there is in each detail."
- Henri
Frederic Amiel
Photo by me.
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