The exceeding brightness of this early sun Makes me conceive how dark I have become.
Yet there is no spring in Florida, neither in boskage perdu, nor on the nunnery beaches.
It is never the thing but the version of the thing.
Anything is beautiful if you say it is.
Poetry increases the feeling for reality.
The yellow glistens. It glistens with various yellows, Citrons, oranges and greens Flowering over the skin.