"The flowers are ravined by bees, the fruit blossoms are thrown to the ground, the wind the rain forces everything."

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I find you in all small and lovely things; in the little fishes like flames in the green water, in the furred and stupid softness of bumble-bees fat as laughter, in all the chiming radiance of warmth and light and scent in the summer garden.

— Winifred Holtby