Divinity must live within herself: Passions of rain, or moods in the falling snow; Grievings in loneliness, or unsubdued Elations when the forest blooms; gusty Emotions on wet roads on autumn nights; All pleasures and all pains, remembering The boughs of summer and the winter branch. These are the measures destined for her soul.
Beneath every no lays a passion for yes that had never been broken.
Music falls on the silence like a sense / A passion that we feel, not understand.
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