Winter in the country is very white. There is black grit on all the shoulders of the roads and on the big mounds from the plows, and all the cars are filthy, but the fields are dazzling and untouched and pristine.

One who strives in life without a purpose are a danger to themselves and others.

And sure enough, even waiting will end...if you can just wait long enough.

... but it's fun being alive, isn't it? I feel as if I'd only got to stretch up my hands to all those stars and catch as many of them as I want to.

Written By Elizabeth von Arnim

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