“ I thought she had a good heart, though not much respectability- or maybe it was because of that. ”
She had so deep a kinship with the trees, so intuitive a sympathy with leaf and flower, that it seemed as if the blood in her veins was not slow-moving human blood, but volatile sap.
~ Mary Webb
The past is only the present become invisible and mute, its memoried glances and its murmurs are infinitely precious.
Beguildy looked at me over the rim of a great measure of mead. 'Saddle your dreams afore you ride 'em, my wench,' he said.
Saddle your dreams before you ride em.
