Those green-robed senators of mighty woods, Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars, Dream, and so dream all night without a stir…
~ John Keats, Hyperion, Book I
When the oak is felled the whole forest echoes with it fall, but a hundred acorns are sown in silence by an unnoticed breeze.
~ Thomas Carlyle
The greatest achievement was at first and for a time a dream. The oak sleeps in the acorn, the bird waits in the egg, and in the highest vision of the soul a waking angel stirs. Dreams are the seedlings of realities.
Look Mommy, it’s been snowing! I sat across from a mother with her little son as the train drove through a beech forest filled with anemones. The flowers stood so close that they looked like snowdrifts in some places. That goes years back, but the memory emerges when the anemones blossom so wonderfully.
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