The heart's seasons seldom coincide with the calendar. Who among us has not been made desolate beyond all words upon some golden day when the little creatures of the air and meadow were life incarnate, from sheer joy of living? Who among us has not come home, singing, when the streets were almost impassable with snow, or met a friend with a happy, smiling face, in the midst of a pouring rain?
Myrtle ReedI experienced the discomfort of those who have moved mentally, but are still clamped, physically, to the places they have moved from.
Myrtle Reed