methinks I should hear with indifference if a trustworthy messenger were to inform me that the sun drowned himself last night
This is June
...Thoreau's Journal: 06-Jun-1857
This is June, the month of grass and leaves. The deciduous trees are investing the evergreens and revealing how dark they are. Already the aspens are trembling again, and a new summer is offered me. I feel a little fluttered in my thoughts, as if I might be too late. Each season is but an infinitesimal point. It no sooner comes than it is gone. It has no duration. It simply gives a tone and hue to my thought.
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"for everything there is a season" but the mood of man can be greatly altered by the seasons!, i am a fair weather boy! a lot of my male friends are autumn happy and most of my woman friends its spring the planting season, the world born anew, i wish we all enjoyed all the seasons as much!, if just for the happiness they bring to each, and we could cherish a grey sky!. mike jameson email@example.com
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