"Mists come skimming into my life, never again to convey rain or usher storm, yet to add shading to my dusk sky".The sky goes up against shades of orange amid dawn and nightfall, the shading that gives you trust that the sun will set just to rise again.Rain is effortlessness; rain is the sky plunging to the earth; without rain, there would be no life.The sky broke like an egg into full nightfall and the water got fire.Rest isn't inertness, and to lie some of the time on the grass under trees on a late spring's day, tuning in to the mumble of the water, or watching the mists coast over the sky, is in no way, shape or form a misuse of time.I see the world being gradually changed into a wild; I hear the moving toward thunder that, multi day, will annihilate us as well. I feel the torment of millions. But then, when I gaze toward the sky, I by one means or another vibe that everything will improve, that this pitilessness, too will end, that peace and quietness will return once more.Earth and sky, woods and fields, lakes and waterways, the mountain and the ocean, are superb schoolmasters, and show a few of us more than we can ever gain from books.".
