Everybody has some special road of thought along which they travel when they are alone to themselves. And his road of thought is what makes every man what he is.
Zora Neale HurstonThe morning air was like a new dress. That made her feel the apron tied around her waist. She untied it and flung it on a low bush beside the road and walked on, picking flowers and making a bouquet… From now on until death she was going to have flower dust and springtime sprinkled over everything.
Zora Neale Hurston