Be the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it

I strive, I struggle, I also tumble. But I never stop until I reach my goal.

We could go from bliss and harmony to anger and recriminations as fast and with as little warning as a tropical storm. What made it bearable, what made it good, was that the foul weather would pass with equal suddenness, usually leaving something glorious in its wake.

A swift carriage, of a dark night, rattling with four horses over roads that one can’t see--that’s my idea of happiness.

Written By Henry James

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