Autumn, the marvelous autumn, mingled its gold and purple with the last verdure that remained alive, as if drops of melted sun had flowed from the sky into the thickness of the woods. (Guy de Maupassant, Tales of the Woodcock, 1883)
Do something every day, even if she’s small. The act of creating is often a form of meditation. It nourishes the soul and clears the bridge for new ideas to form. – Maya Pagà n Donenfeld.
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