Sunday, May 16, 2010

And I Go Home

Everyday a new picture is painted and framed, held up for half an hour, in such lights as the great artist chooses, and then withdrawn and the curtain falls. The sun goes down, long the afterglow gives light, the damask curtains glow along the western window, the first star is lit, and I go home.
Winter (The Writings of Henry David Thoreau)

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