A withered maple leaf has left its branch and is falling to the ground its movements resemble those of a butterfly in flight. Isnt it strange The saddest and deadest of things is yet so like the gayest and most vital of creatures
Ivan Turgenev
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You are an old pigone of them said to the other. And that is worse than being a young one.
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Ah but in time the heat of noontide passes and to it there succeed nightfall and dusk with a return to the quiet fold where for the weary an the heavyladen there waits sleep sweet sleep.
- Ivan Turgenev