There is nothing so good for the inside of a man as the outside of a horse. – John Lubbock, “Recreation,” The Use of Life, 1894

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Our destiny often looks like a fruit-tree in winter. Who would think from its pitiable aspect that those rigid boughs, those rough twigs could next spring again be green, bloom, and even bear fruit? Yet we hope it, we know it. – Johann Wolfgang Goethe, Wilhelm Meister’s Travels, translated from German
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