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These things--the beauty, the memory of our own past--are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself, they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshippers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never visited. CSL
1 comment:
meaghan. i love this scene. and i love the picture on your title, which i think i saw on facebook and commented on after swooning over it. it makes me long for hours of conversation over tea. miss. your. face.
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