It was small wonder, then, that he suddenly flung down his brush on the floor, said 'Bother!' and 'O blow!' and also 'Hang spring-cleaning!' and bolted out of the house without even waiting to put on his coat.
------------ Kenneth Grahame
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Autumn
In the morning my breath smokes in the air; in the evening the gold crumbled flakes of the maple leaves are a glittering dust in the ebbing sun, the breath of the dreaming earth.
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