[See also] If, as a blind Indiana child once wrote, “forgiveness is the perfume of the violet on the heel that crushed it,” gratitude may safely be characterized as the perfume of the rose on the hand that caressed it. – Quoted in The Judge, 1916 January 8th
There is nothing in the world more beautiful than the forest clothed to its very hollows in snow. It is the still ecstasy of nature, wherein every spray, every blade of grass, every spire of reed, every intricacy of twig, is clad with radiance. – William Sharp
